If you asked me to
by funnygirl00
Summary: "Are you saying that you married me to merely dig up my mother's corpse?" Sherlock looks down at me. "Of course! Why else would I marry you?" The year is 1912. Sherlock Holmes finds himself in an arranged marriage to Tammy Hake that he can't get out of. She doesn't love him, yet she won't leave him. What secret does she harbor that makes marriage to Sherlock preferable to freedom?
1. 1: A shock to both parties

**Hello, I'm trying another Sherlock fic and hopefully this one will do as well as my other 7 Sherlock stories did. I've got one open, 'Memories' and it's full of outtakes and alternate scenes from the other 7. **

**This is going to be a period piece, so that's going to be a bit of a different setting as Sherlock will not have too many modern conveniences. But, keep your eyes open for little nods to the episodes here and there. And, I chose to keep Tammy because I feel that I couldn't create another female OC, since she is the best OC, I've managed to pull off. Celine Dion's hit 'If you asked me to' is responsible for this one. And to those who haven't heard, congratulations to Benedict Cumberbatch!**

**And as always, I own nothing except for Tammy.**

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><p>Chapter One: A shock for both parties<p>

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><p><em>The early autumn of 1912,<em>

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><p>I stared at my father and stepmother in complete shock. "You did what?" I gasped out, hoping that I'd heard their ridiculous announcement wrong. They couldn't have just announced that I was to wed a Mr. Sherlock Holmes, a man I'd never met before next month! I'd never met the man before, but from what I had heard of him in polite society, was that he was a crazy individual who did the most bizarre things.<p>

Father at least had the decency to look semi-apologetic for the shocking cannonball that he'd just dropped on my poor, spinning head mere moments ago. "It's a great opportunity for us to advance in society."

"So you agree to marry me off to some man that I've never known before!?" I demand as I jump from my chair, clutching the silky, pale pink material in my trembling, sweaty hands. "And a lunatic at that! You can't do that!"

My stepmother's eyes flashed. "It's done! You're to meet him and his parent's tomorrow afternoon at tea. And if, you meet with their approval, you're going to wed him next month."

I looked at the man who'd been my father for the nineteen years of my life. Staring at him now, I could barely believe that he'd given into this ridiculous idea of my stepmother's. I'm certain it was hers, it had to be. "I cannot believe this! You promised mother on her deathbed that I'd be allowed to marry for love!"

He glowered at me; he always hated it when I brought up my mother in front of my stepmother's presence. "I am sorry that I cannot yield to your mother's wishes, but circumstances force me to make this decision."

I crossed my arms, now getting to core of the problem. "Circumstances? Have you been gambling again? Are your investments not paying off?" His silence answered my questions. "So you sell your only daughter to pay for _your _mistakes?"

His eyes flashed as he stood up. "It doesn't give me pleasure to break my vows, but I have no other alternative."

I glowered down my nose at him, delighting in annoying him. "I am not going to be party to this. I love another!" They both paused, not expecting that outburst from me, nor were they excepting such a shocking claim. "Timothy." I was lying of course, Timothy and I were friends for many years, but I'd never marry him. I had sworn that I wouldn't marry any man unless I loved him deeply with a fervent passion. However, as I had yet to meet that man, I was being forced to borrow another man to get myself out of this situation.

My stepmother let out a disbelieve laugh. "A footman!"

"We love, honor and respect each other." I pointed out to her the logical reasons why it would be possible for them to believe that we'd formed an attachment for each other. I only hoped that I could get to timothy and explain to him why I said such a thing before they did. "We're great friends."

"And unless you wish for his employment to be terminated," my father threatened. He was always very good at making threats and he knew how to come up with the diabolic schemes in moments. "you will not speak to him on such matters."

I rolled my eyes, attempting to call his bluff and I hope to God that he was bluffing. "As if I'm frightened of your feeble threats. He can always get work elsewhere."

"Unless I blacken his name," my father stepped forward. "one of our serving maids is pregnant."

I snorted in disgust and revulsion. "Another woman to fall victim of you and your unsustainable lust, father? What's the matter, your second wife not good enough for you?"

"Watch it you!" His brow arched in barely contained fury. "I can easily bribe her to name your timothy as her rapist and he can spend the rest of his life in prison."

I glowered. "You just confessed everything to me."

"I can easily have you locked out of the way until he's been convicted to serving a life sentence, and you know it!" He shot back at me. "Besides, given your reputation for hysterical moments, it would be easy to persuade them that you'd lie, under oath, to protect the man that you claim to love and have grown up with. Your testimony wouldn't do any good." Temporary defeat washed over me as I realized that there was some truth in what he said. However, I wouldn't be deterred and I immediately and mentally began making plans to get a duplicate copy of the key to my bedroom door. I'd also see if there was a book in my father's library that would allow me to learn how to pick a lock, if he chose to change the locks on me. "Now, get upstairs and began planning what you're going to wear tomorrow!"

I glowered as I spun on my heel and turned to stomp out of the room. Well, I'd do everything in my power to come across as the most disagreeable woman in the world. Then, Mr. Sherlock Holmes would change his mind.

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><p>"You did what?" Sherlock shouted at his brother as he carefully set the chemical solution down on the table before he succumbed to the urge to throw it at Mycroft and burn several holes in his always-so-pristine suit. Mycroft, as always, appeared unappeased as he tolerated Sherlock's tantrum. "I am not going to get married to some female I've never heard of before! And how'd you get her to agree to such a stupid thing?"<p>

"Ask her yourself when she gets here."

Sherlock's head shoots up at his brother's words. "When she gets here? What's she doing here?"

"Her parents," Mycroft explained simply. "discussed the possibilities of such a marriage taking place with her yesterday. She's going to be here in a few hours, with her parents, so mother sent me to make sure that you're ready to receive her."

Sherlock shook his head. "No, not going there."

"Oh, yes you are."

Sherlock glowered at him. "And since when has my marital status become such a priority? You're the eldest!"

Mycroft scowled at him. "I'm not the ones who's getting talked about in such a suspicious light."

"Meaning?"

"Your relationship with John Watson-

He groaned and rolled his eyes. "Oh for God's sake!" He snapped. "Your problem is the use of the word 'relationship.' People can be such idiots. He's my colleague, end of story."

"However, he is the only person of which you spend your company with day and night." Mycroft pointed out as he picked up one of Sherlock's slide and began to examine the poison on it. Sherlock reached up and plucked it out of his hands without even looking up at his brother. "Don't be surprised if people assume that you're another Oscar Wilde. Your insistence to continue to dally in all sorts of scientific experiments already makes you another Doctor Jekyll."

"Keep this up and you'll have to write a book about me. I am neither Mr. Wilde nor Doctor Jekyll." Sherlock pulls on his gloves. "Now, get out of here. I've got to finish the tests to prove that Mrs. Hepplewhite was murdered by her husband."

"Not, until you promise me that you'll be here at 1:00 sharp to receive Miss Tammy Hake and her parents on time, cleaned and ready."

"Nope." He popped the 'p' on purpose, knowing it irritated his brother. "And I refuse to have anything to do with a woman so ridiculously named."

"Fine, then I shall have to have mummy deal with you." Sherlock groaned and closed his eyes. Mycroft at least talked civilly. His mother would rant and rave emotional nonsense until he agreed to her demands. If he wanted to finish this case, he needed silence.

"Fine, I give you my word. Now get out!"

"Good. Moreover, don't forget to comb your hair. It's always untidy."

Sherlock snorted. "Well, I'm not slicking it back like yours. I'd look like an idiot."

"You are an idiot Sherlock." Mycroft reminded him, in the irritating, older brother tone. "I'm the smart one."

Sherlock snorted. "Why don't you go smoke your pipe or cigarettes and get sick on them?"

"I promised mummy that I'd give up smoking, and I have."

"Then you better start cleaning your hands better. There's tobacco stains on them."

"Thank you." Mycroft sneers. "I shall do so."

"Good. Now get out of here."

And thankfully, Mycroft did so without further protest. Sherlock peered into his microscope in a huff. He was going to have a huge argument with his parents after he decided how he was going to chase this woman out of his life. People were so annoying and suspicious. John was courting Mary Morstan and he excepted that their engagement was going to be announced at the end of the year. People were stupid and they had the most stupid ideas. If only people could mind their own business and let him get on with his life.

Then he recognized the poison. He'd spent many hours mentally filing aside the various types of poison, but he hadn't expected it to be this particular poison. _Clostridium botulinum_. One of the most deadly poisons in the world. Mr. Hepplewhite must have realized that his wife was having an affair and thought that the poison would have been virtually undetectable. And it had been, except Sherlock didn't like the man and was certain he'd poisoned his wife. Inspector Lestrade would hopefully realized that Sherlock did know what he was talking about after this.

Sherlock exhaled as he looked around his laboratory. He began thinking about what he was going to do. He'd dropped an eyeball in one girl's cup of tea and she threatened to jump out of the window if her parents forced her to marry him. The other, she was easier to scare off, he just walked into the room with his skull in one hand and some eyeballs in the other. She turned and walked out of the house without a single word. This woman, Tammy Hake, was unfamiliar to him. Therefore, that meant that either she was of the lower society or her parents were in debt some way or another. She'd probably be easy to freak out. Then, his eyes fell on the sheet and he grinned. Well, he was going to scare the little Miss Hake out of the house.


	2. 2: Mr Sherlock Holmes

Chapter two: Mr. Sherlock Holmes

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><p>"Tammy?" My father roared from the foot of the stairs. "You get down here now! We're going to be late!"<p>

I smirked as I had purposefully waited for him to shout before coming down the stairs. I'd picked a bright, sapphire, almost a neon blue dress with black beads and lace trim. By delaying until the last possible minute, I'd meet Sherlock Holmes in this dress. It was one of my favorites, but both of her parents hated it with a passion. Not that I really blamed them, such bright colors like these were only worn for the women of the night.

I grabbed a large blue hat and carefully secured it with a large pin upon my head before exiting my room. I smiled to myself as I descended the staircase. Both of my parent's heads went towards me and it was my stepmother who shrieked first. "You cannot wear that!"

"We're going to be late."I reminded her as I pulled on the uncomfortable elbow length gloves. "There's not time for me to change."

"She did this on purpose!" She shrieked. "Do something!"

"Like what?" He shouted. "I can't! Either we arrive an hour late or we take her with us like this now!"

"Fine!" She huffed as she pulled at her gloves. "I can't believe this!"

My stepmother criticized everything about me the entire carriage ride there. I was sorely tempted to stop the carriage and ride up top with the driver. However, I was able to tune her out and focus solely on the clacking of the horse's hooves on the cobblestones. I would vaguely nod my head, but she was soon silent as she realized that I was not listening. I could not and would not look at my father. I was still upset and disappointed with him about this decision for me to wed a man I didn't know.

All too soon, the carriage stopped in front of a breathtaking mansion. I hated to admit it, it was a lovely home and I'd love to have it, but I wasn't willing to sell myself to get it. A footman hurried to open the carriage door and help me out. I was tempted to run down the street as soon as my feet were once again on the ground, but I decided against it. I could get rid of this man, Sherlock Holmes in five minutes.

After father and stepmother had descended, we went to the door. After ringing the bell, we were admitted into the main entrance. It was beautiful, polished marble pillars, deep cherry stained wood floors with red carpet. I loved the multiple gold accents, such as a miniature palm planted in a gold pot. Gold picture frames, gold light switches and dozens of other little things. I was momentarily stunned as I viewed the house.

"Just think," my stepmother's voice cause my mind to stray from the beautiful thoughts I was having. "all this will be yours."

I glower at her. "Don't even attempt to marry me off without my permission. If I have to run away at the altar, so be it."

My father inhaled to speak, but an approaching man cut me. "Very nicely put." This man was several years older than I was, he was somewhat heavy set and his hair was thinning. I began shaking my head, if this was Sherlock Holmes; I was jumping out of a window! The man smirked at me. "And you must be my brother's intended bride." I glowered at him, as he looked me up and down. "Not bad. He might prefer you."

"You make me sound like the last rotten egg on the tray that absolutely must be eaten."

His brow arched. "Indeed. Follow me please; mother is waiting in the parlor."

My father spoke up. "And what about Sherlock Holmes? Are we to make his acquaintance this afternoon?"

"Possibly." He said with a slightly snidest toned in his voice. "However, you may regret your anticipation about meeting him. My brother is rather…unusual at times."

I clear my throat. "Without meaning to sound rude, you rather forgot to introduce yourself."

"Does it matter?" he questioned without sparing me a backward glance.

"I guess not, since your parents didn't bother to bless you with a name, why should it matter?"

My father elbowed me. "Tammy, behave." He then apologized for me. "Sorry, my daughter hasn't quite learned to speak properly with gentlemen of your class."

"That's fine."

"Mikey," he groaned at the sound of an older woman's voice. "where is Sherlock?"

"I don't know." He said tightly. "I'm not my brother's keeper and you named me Mycroft." He stepped aside, holding one hand out, as if he were displaying me proudly. "And this is Miss Tammy Holmes."

I stepped towards her and curtsied. "And honor to meet you Mrs. Holmes."

"And you too Miss Hake."

"Please," I insisted. "call me Tammy. I much rather prefer it."

"Alright," she smiled as she brushed a silver strand of hair from her face. She was a beautiful, elegant looking woman. "I shall then, Tammy."

"Mycroft?" A loud, gruff voice caused me to look up towards the door that we'd just come through moments ago. My eyes widened slightly as I took in the sight of the man standing there wrapped in only a bed sheet! Surprisingly, I was only taken aback for the moment, even at the sight of the skull in his hand. "Did you take my eyeballs again? I need them."

I look towards Mycroft, questioningly, as he gazed at the man with a sour, warning expression. "Eyeballs, Sherlock? I didn't take _those _items from that…room you dare to call a lab."

Sherlock glowered at him. "You hid them last time we had company. Don't even bother to lie."

"That was because you had previously put one in the lady's tea cup." My brows rose in curiosity. "I figured I'd spare Miss Hake the discomfort of finding one in hers. Also to spare mother of the embarrassment for explaining your need to divulge in childish pranks."

"So you did take the eyeballs then?" I ask.

Mycroft glances at me with a look, suggesting that I be grateful to him. "Of course, I did. Unless, you prefer eyeballs in your tea."

"I wouldn't know, I've never tried it before." I stand up and face Mr. Sherlock Holmes, taking in some of his features. He's moderately pleasant to look at, not handsome at all. As near as I can make out, underneath that sheet, he has virtually no muscular tone to his body at all. His face is extremely angular with prominently sharp cheekbones. His eyes, I like, they're sharp and appear to be three colors. Green, blue and gold, unusual, but nice. His hair is an unruly mop of dark curls and his lips were shaped in a tight line.

He held my gaze for a moment before stating. "You're staring at me."

And, he's got a mouth on him. Good. I love to argue with people. "So are you."

He glowered at me, as if surprised that I'd dared to talk back to him. "I'm making a deduction."

"So am I, if I allow you the liberty of making a deduction, then you should extend the courtesy by allowing me the same service."

He arched a brow. "Clearly."

"Indeed." I boldly held my hand to him. "Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I presume?"

He blinked for a moment then he handed me the skull so he could shift the sheets carefully into his hand so he could shake mine. The skull, for some stupid reason, didn't faze me at all. However, his touch did, for some ridiculous reason a peculiar warmth spread throughout me at his touch. "You must be Miss Tammy Hake." I nodded. "By the way, I hate your last name."

I didn't even flinch. "I hate it too. Nevertheless, that doesn't mean that I'm going to change my last name to your last name just to have my name changed. It can be done legally enough."

He arched a brow. "Why are you here then if that wasn't your goal?"

I glowered at him. "I was threatened that if I didn't come here I'd never live to see the light of day again. What are _you _doing here? No one held a shotgun to your head!"

"No, not a shotgun, my mother's tongue and I frankly I wished for it to simply lie silent instead of going off."

"Which is just as lethal." I add. "But I warn you, stepmother's tongues are even more dangerous."

"That's enough!" My father snapped sharply at me, causing me to jump slightly. I had forgotten that we weren't alone. "Tammy, sit down at once. And give Mr. Holmes back his skull."

I frowned and looked down at the skull in my hand and handed it back to Sherlock. "Right, sorry." I cast the skull of his a curious look. "Friend of yours?"

He looked at me as if he was hearing the word 'friend' for the first time in his life. "I don't have…_friends_."

I shrug my shoulders. "Oh….wonder why." At my father's glower, I turned and sat on the sofa. Mrs. Holmes arched a silent brow at me as I removed my gloves. Sherlock gazed around the room and then sat down beside me, allowing the sheet to go slack in his hands, revealing everything from his waist up. I could feel those eyes of his boring into my face, he was determined to intimidate me, but I wasn't going to fall for it.

Mycroft spoke up with disdain in his voice. "For God's sake Sherlock," he snapped. "we're having company! Couldn't you have at least put your clothes on?"

"Well, since we're going to be forced into marriage," Sherlock stated as he reached for the teacup that his mother had filled and began to blow on it. "I figure it's best that she see what she's getting." I almost sloshed the tea in my cup as I accepted it from Mrs. Holmes at his words. "After all, you are virtually selling us, and every seller deserves a look at what they're buying."

I nod. "Agreed." I turned towards him and held his gaze. "I didn't wear my corset today. Would you wish to examine me as well Mr. Holmes, or would you prefer to do that in private?"

All mouths dropped open in shock at that statement. His eyes widened in surprise for a moment before commenting. "I don't need to see you naked Miss Hake to realize the full extent on your feminine features. I can imagine them quite well and could even guess your measurements accurately."

"Fascinating." I was feeling slightly embarrassed and uncomfortable, but I wasn't going to back down from this man's scandalous statements. "Since you're talking about my body and how you can imagine it's appearance when I'm unclothed," my stepmother moaned and began fanning herself rapidly. My father looked like he was about to explode. "might I suggest we turn to a first name basis at this time?"

Sherlock looked at me for a moment before nodding. "Yes. I believe it might be appropriate…Tammy."

"Thank you….Sherlock."

"Well," Mrs. Holmes said brightly. "I believe that….this marriage might take place after all."

"WHAT!?" Sherlock and I shouted in unison. "YOU CAN'T BE SERIOUS!" We turned and glowered at each other.

Mycroft smirked. "Oh, I believe you're right mother dear, they're perfect."

Sherlock spoke first. "You _can't _really mean that. It's obvious that we can't stand each other!"

"Agreed." I chimed in. "I wouldn't marry him if he were the last man on this earth.

"If you don't marry him," my father threatened. "he will be the last man on earth that you ever see again."

I glowered at him. "Fine with me. I don't love him!"

Mrs. Holmes spoke up. "Look, this whole thing is a bit rushed. Don't know why it must be so, however, even if these cannot see it they are…compatible."

"What?" I shrieked before lowering my voice. "Sorry. I fail to see how."

"I saw it the instance you stalked up to him and held out your hand." I squirmed, my own boldness had put me in this situation. "You're not the first woman he's walked out to meet dressed only in a bed sheet."

"The sixth." Sherlock supplied helpfully.

She glowered at him. "The count doesn't matter Sherlock. The fact is, out of all the challenges you've issued to her, she's the only one who's stood up to each challenge and pushed it back in your face."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and looked away. "Annoyed, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked. "It is annoying, to realize that your mother is correct."

Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest and remained silent. Frankly, I couldn't think of anything else to say. This whole situation was extremely bizarre. It was if we were sitting in the eye of the hurricane and the whole family was just whirling around us.

Mrs. Holmes stood up. "As unethical as it is, might I offer you a tour of the house Mr. and Mrs. Hake? Mycroft will accompany us."

Mycroft looked skeptically at us. "Are you sure that's safe mother? Tammy may have jumped out of the window."

Sherlock made a face at him as his mother rolled her eyes. "I'm fairly certain, this girl can handle herself. Now, do come and let them talk."

Sherlock groaned. "What are we supposed to be talking about?"

She smiled as she patted his shoulder. "Whatever you like."

"God mother," Mycroft moans. "you do realize that you left a variety of options open."

"Stop it Mike and do come on." she took a hold of Mycroft and tugged him out of the room with my parents following behind them. "Now, I believe we'll start with the upstairs, then work our way down to the garden and stables."

Her words faded as the parlor door was closed and I was left alone in the room with a half naked Sherlock Holmes right at my elbow.


	3. 3: Thin sheets of conversation

Chapter three: Thin sheets of conversation

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><p>The silence pervades the room. I shift uncomfortably and risk a glance at Sherlock and the same moment he risks one at me. We instantly look the other way and clear our throats, both embarrassed and mortified to be caught in this wordless situation.<p>

I lick my lips and mutter. "I need something stronger than tea."

"Same here." Sherlock stands up, allowing the sheet to fall from his waist and body completely. My eyes widen, only for a moment as I realize that he is wearing pants underneath the sheet. He bends over and rolls the length of his pants back down around his bare feet. "A lot stronger. Do you drink?"

"Yes!" I stand up and walk with him towards a cabinet, which upon opening it, revealing a selection of alcoholic drinks and glasses. I reached for the white merlot the same instance he does. I release the bottle and shake my head. "Great. We even fancy the same wine."

"So it would seem." He pulled the cork out and began pouring his glass. "So, what do we do about this situation?"

"I could kill myself." I offered humorlessly as I reached for the bottle before he could stuff the cork in. "Or, you could help me get away and give me a sum of money to support myself until I was able to find a way of supporting myself."

He shook his head. "No good. Mycroft would notice the money missing from my account, as I rarely use and he'd follow the trail of money it would leave behind. Besides, if Mycroft even suspected that I helped you escape, he'd hunt you down just to attempt to prove his superiority."

"Then what do you suggest?" I am sorely tempted to just inhale this whole tumbler of wine, but I force myself to sip it. "I'd like to know before I begin planning my last meal."

"Well, it's a good thing both of us find this marriage so disagreeable, otherwise, I'd be offended by your preference to die than marry me."

At his tone, the glass almost falls from my hand. I look up at him. "Are you, suggesting that…marriage-

He cut me off. "If I were interested in you, I would contemplate it; you're not stupid like all the women I've met. But no, things like this, love, wife, children, aren't really in my area. Moreover, before you start asking stupid questions, I consider myself married to my work. I'm not interested in _anybody_."

I exhale as I take a larger sip out of my wine. "I'm not an idiot." He frowns as he gazes questioningly at me. "You're obviously not an Oscar Wilde," his brow arches; as if curious about as to how I'd know such things, much less even find the nerve to mention the subject. "you're just too busy to have time for anybody other than yourself."

He looks at me for a moment before taking the bottle and moving to sit back onto the chair. "So…tell me about yourself."

"Are you asking to be polite or because you're curious?" He doesn't answer me; he simply tops off his drink. I exhale. "I'll take your silence as a sign that you're both emotions."

He frowns at me. "I divorce myself from feelings."

"Whatever." I clear my throat. "My age is none of your concern."

"You're turning twenty the day after tomorrow." At my glower, he adds. "I had a friend of mine do some digging on you once my brother announced that I'd be meeting you today."

I make a face at him. "Then you'll know that I'm an only child, I help out children in the street whenever possible."

"Yes. You throwing yourself in front of a carriage to save a child that had fallen into the street." His eyes narrowed. "You were lucky just to have several ribs broken, a snapped wrist and a mild concussion, it could have been much worse."

"Thank you."

"Why did you do it? The child didn't have any parents anyway."

I glowered at him. "Because it was a child. It deserved to grow up. She's now been adopted by a respectable family and she's happy."

"Actually, she's miserable." His words cause my heart to pause in my chest. "The husband of the couple that adopted her, beats his wife and believe me, he's begun to move his advances from his wife to his adopted child."

I set the glass to the side. "How do you know this?" I demand. "How?"

"I just know."

"And what have you been doing about it?"

He shrugs. "What I can, don't worry, I should have enough physical evidence to convict him within a week."

"A week!" I snap. "Anything could happen in a week!"

"I presume at this point you're referring to your mother committing suicide." All the oxygen was sucked out of my lungs at his words. His brow arched slightly as I picked up my glass again and began drinking again. "Rest assured, the police have been informed but they cannot act without evidence which I am collecting. Now, granted, if your mother was planning on committing suicide, there wasn't anything that you could have done to stop her from blowing her brains out."

I exhaled. "But there was no reason for her to kill herself." I pointed out. "She wasn't upset. My mother, if she were to kill herself, I think she'd prefer poison to a bullet. But I know her, how much she loved life and for the life of me I can't figure out why she killed herself. If it was because of anything to do with my father, she would have left him and found somebody else. She wouldn't have killed herself because like myself, she didn't care what people in society had to say." At the curious look in his eyes, I cleared my throat. "Why am I doing all of the talking and you're doing all the criticizing?" He didn't answer me. He folded his hands in a prayer like position. His eyes raking all over my body in a silent study. I crossed my arms around my waist. "Do you mind?"

"Who found your mother's body?"

"My father and stepmother." I reflected back on his tone. It had been curious, almost suspicious, but I had to put that ridiculous mind of his to rest. "If you're thinking foul play, you'd be wrong; Mother had invited her and a few other friends over for tea. Everyone was in the parlor when my mother shot herself."

Sherlock jumped up and suddenly clapped his hands together. "Brilliant!" I frowned in confusion as he stood up; muttering under his breath in what I suspected was Latin. He threw the door open and shouted. "Mrs. Hudson!" Getting no reply, he stood up and stomped out of the room. "Mother! Mycroft!"

I stood up and followed him in confusion. "Sherlock, what are you-

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes." His mother scolded as she came down the staircase, my parents and Mycroft right behind her. "What on earth are you-

"Oh nothing mother." He hurried up the staircase, kissed his mother on the forehead before continuing up the stair. "Just simply announcing that we've agreed so well that we're marrying this Sunday." Mrs. Holmes's eyes bugled and Mycroft lost his footing for a moment. All eyes went to me and I was so shocked that I dropped my glass of wine on the carpet in shock. He hollered down the stairs. "Be sure to invite John and Mary, they'd be so upset at being left out of the celebrations. Keep it simple, nothing loud or crazy; we can afford to pay for a special license. So, see you all at the church on Sunday."

He hurried up the stairs and I found my tongue. "Are you serious!?" I shouted. "You didn't even propose!"

He frowned. "Does it make a difference?"

"Yes!"

He groaned and shook his head as he peered over the rail down at me. "Fine then, will you marry me?"

"No!" I shrieked.

He wasn't even fazed. "Sorry, considering I've agreed to marry you, you don't have much of a choice." He grinned at me. "I'll let your parents explain to you how a girl's life changes into a woman when she marries. See you Sunday!"

With that, he went up the stairs and slammed a door to a room upstairs. Everyone look at the general direction. I exhaled in amazement as the world spun before my eyes. Mycroft spoke up. "Well, shall we discuss the impending marriage in the library? I've got a copy of our contractual agreement in the parlor."

I felt was if the whole world were passing me by. As the air was slowly sucked out my chest, I reached for the nearest thing to throw and it happened to a priceless vase. It was is if my hand were not my own as I threw the vase to the ground. The scream that ripped itself from my chest echoed in the room. I may have let out a hysterical cry or two, but that was the last thing that I heard before I began gasping. The world swirled around me and I sunk to the ground on my knees, clutching my chest in horror. For I knew in that instance, the moment Sherlock Holmes announced that he was to take me as his wife, I would never meet the man that I was destined to truly love.


	4. 4: Discussions of days gone by and ahead

Chapter four: Discussions of days gone by and ahead

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><p>I stomped down to the breakfast room with the newspaper in my clenched, shaking hand. My parents both looked up at me as I slapped the newspaper down on the table. "What is this?" I demanded, pointing to the announcements between the recent births and deaths. Appropriate, considering I was somewhat between living and dying. "How dare you?"<p>

My father simply wiped his mouth. "Good morning to you as well. I trust the announcement was appropriate."

"You just announced that I'm getting married to a man that I refused." I growled. "What gives you the right to-

"The fact that you are my daughter and you _will _do as I say!"

I shift my shoulders. "It's my life; you don't have the right to simply sign it away!"

My stepmother groaned. "It's your fault William, allowing those books and her strange ideals into this house. It's a disgrace."

I snapped. "Unless I'm wrong, the pair of you love each other." I snapped. "And if I am mistaken, you loved my mother!" My father stood up, his face full of silent thunder. I recognized that look well enough to know that I had best be silent for I had almost gone too far. However, I wouldn't stay silent. "So tell me, what is so disgraceful about me wanting to be in love with the man I marry?"

It was then that my father struck my cheek. I couldn't hold back a cry as I grabbed onto my stinging cheek, I was certain that I'd have a bruise on my cheek tomorrow. But I was stunned by my father's action, for he'd never once raised a hand to me. Shock washed over me in waves as I looked at him in shock.

For a second, I thought I saw regret in his eyes, then resolve. He straightened his coat. "Go upstairs and prepare to leave. Mrs. Holmes is coming here in an hour, to help you purchase a wedding dress." Tears began to fill my eyes as I realized that I'd have no choice but to runaway. I had no way of knowing how I'd support myself, but I wouldn't do anything desperate to support myself. "You're old enough to know that some things in this society will never change. As long as you are under my roof, you will do as I say. Now go!"

I hurried from the room, refusing to look at either of them in the eye. I heard my stepmother congratulate father for discipline 'the little witch.' I hurried up the stairs, already vowing to plan my escape from the very hellhole that my home had become.

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><p><em>In the dress shop that afternoon,<em>

* * *

><p>I bit my lip as I examined my reflection in the dress. It was beautiful, with a square neckline, a fringed beaded sash. Lacy, Grecian style sleeves and a deep back. Mrs. Holmes and I agreed to no veil and a large feather clip for my hair. She said Sherlock would have a fit if I were to wear a veil, as it was some stupid superstition to protect the bride from evil spirits.<p>

I'd tried to put some emotion into my voice, but I failed. After a few moments, Mrs. Holmes dismissed the lady helping us and spoke. "Now, Tammy, why don't you tell me what's on your mind."

I avoided her gaze as I answered. "Too many things."

"I can imagine. When you return home," she pointed out. "you'll find your suitcase unpacked and all of your jewelry paid for and returned." I looked up at her in shock. How had she known that and how was she able to return all of the jewelry I'd pawned? I had a small fortune with those jewels that I'd sold. She'd answered my silent questions. "Mycroft paid your maid to go visit a 'sick' relative and replaced her with one of his. He's placed men to watch the house and one of them retrieved the jewelry. I'm sorry," her tone did sound sympathetic to my plight. "but, you are to marry Sherlock this Sunday." My lip began to quiver and I began to shake. She wrapped an arm around my shoulder and guided me down to the nearest seat. "I think we need to talk."

"Talk?" I demanded before lowering my voice in respect to her. "I've tried, but I can't. Because my father can't keep his money in an orderly fashion, I must be sold like some animal to a man I don't know and don't love!"

She smiled reminiscently. "You know, you remind me of myself when I was your age."

"Do you love your husband?" the words slipped out before I could stop them. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that."

"Any woman in your situation has a right to ask that question." She says kindly. "But before I answer that question, I must know, do you feel anything for Sherlock? Any little thing at all?"

I'm silent before admitting. "He…scares me."

Mrs. Holmes laughs and I look at her in confusion. "I'm sorry; Sherlock has many effects on people. You're the first person who's listed fear as an emotion." She sobered slowly, but there was a small glint of mirth in her eyes. "What…about my son could possibly scare you?"

Suddenly, the words burst from me like a dam breaking forth. "I don't know him!" I throw my hands in the air. "Pardon me for speaking so candidly, but your son is….weird! I mean the eyeballs, the sheet and the skull. What else would I think of him? One minute, he's empathically agreeing with me that he doesn't wish to marry me, that marriage is against every bloody fiber of his being! Pardon the language. Then, the next minute, he's done a complete Jekyll and Hyde routine and he wants to marry me! Moreover, not only that, he's over eager! And yes, I know about the wifely requirements that a woman must submit to her husband. If his interests in me are purely physical, then my life will be a living hell!"

I inhale deeply for air, to find Mrs. Holmes looking at me quietly. She waits a long moment before responding. "No. I didn't love my husband." All the air whooshed out of me. "Like you, I was forced to marry my husband. However, unlike you and Sherlock, timothy and I did know each other. I wasn't marrying a complete stranger. I simply, didn't like timothy. Then my parents died and I had two younger siblings to support. Timothy was the richest man I knew and I could twist him around my finger if I needed to. He knew I didn't love him when he married me."

"Then why'd he marry you?" I asked. "Couldn't he have simply helped you?"

"He loved me and he wanted me to be his."

I exhaled. "Want. An ugly word to be sure."

"And yet, it is the most wonderful word in the world, isn't it?" She questioned me softly. "Doesn't everyone want love and want to be wanted?" I silently nod my head. "My wedding night," I looked up at her. "wasn't anything like you could imagine."

"You don't have to tell me." I said hastily. "It's not proper for me to-

"Nonsense! You're almost my daughter-in-law, so I feel it my right to tell you so. Nothing happened that night." Now, against my will, I was curious. "I was prepared for anything to happen. The last thing I expected was timothy kissing me on the mouth, getting into the covers and telling me goodnight." My eyes widened in surprise. "I immediately asked him if we were consummating our marriage. He told me, "We aren't consummating this marriage until you love me as much as I love you." Personally, I thought he was mad, but…a little more than a month later, I was in love with timothy and I've stayed in love with him all these years."

I'm almost struck silent, but, I never could remain silent for long. "But, just because you fell in love with your husband, doesn't mean I shall love mine, especially when unlike your husband, he hasn't shown any regard for me."

She's silent for a moment. "He's shown you admiration, that's more than he's shown anyone other than John Watson."

I hesitated before asking. "Does…do you think he loves me?"

She pauses, biting her lip. "I don't know, you see….I've only heard him say that he loved me once a year on mother's day." I stared at her in horrified amazement. "Sherlock doesn't believe in revealing his emotions to anyone. Frankly, I'd take the fact that he wants to marry you as a sign that he does have some affection for you."

I shook my head. "How can you bear it? I thought my father loved me for he told me so every day. But then, his sudden forcing the issue of my marriage has made me wonder if he's loved me as deeply as he claims. Your son tells you that he loves you once a year. Can you be firmly grounded in the belief that what he means what he says or does he say on mother's day only to please you?"

Her answer is straightforward and honest. "I can honestly say that he loves me."

"Then why doesn't he say so?"

"Why does he need to say something to the extent of what I know to be true?" She asks. "He knows I love him as I know he loves me." I couldn't speak anymore; I looked down and surveyed my shaking hands. Mrs. Holmes covered them with a warm hand of hers. "Sherlock is a good man at heart. He won't hurt you, if that's all your concerns. I've told you of my husband's character, in spite of how Sherlock acts, his father has instilled morals in him and he will hold to those."

As much as I wished that were the extent of my fears, it wasn't. Tomorrow was my birthday and the day after that…was my wedding day. And I saw no way earthly way of getting out of it.


	5. 5: Wedding confessions

Chapter five: Wedding confessions

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><p><em>The wedding day,<em>

* * *

><p>For the fifth time, I wrenched free from the maid dressing me and lurched for the empty basin, on to dry heave again. I was so scared I was certain I was going to either faint, have a heart attack or wet myself. My mind hadn't made up which of the three it was going to do. I inhaled and straightened as my stepmother stepped into the room. My blood froze. I didn't want her in here, she wasn't my mother and we never had a good relationship. How could we, when my father married her five months after my mother had died?<p>

She pursed her lips for a moment before turning to the maid. "You may go now; I'll take care of her."

I glowered slightly at her. "I don't need your help."

She rolled her eyes and waved her hand dismissively at the maid who hurried out of the room. My stepmother stepped towards me, her eyes running over every inch of me. "That maid tied your stays improperly."

"They're fine." I bite out.

"Nonsense." She spins me around and unties the stays. The maid had just tied me up and had been preparing to button me up when my stepmother had barged in to take control. I inhaled to protest, when she yanked hard at the strings, bringing my waist in. I was forced to grab onto my makeup table before I fell backwards on the floor. "You're a lady of society now." She pulled in sharply and I let out a sharp gasp as my sides began to ache. "You must look your best and not disgrace us."

I inhaled and spun around, grabbing her wrists. "You…are here," I spat as best as I could because my stays were so tight. "because…you are married….to my father." I shouldn't have reveled in the pain that flashed in her eyes for a moment, but I did. "You're not my mother… and I want…you gone." When she didn't move, I added. "I am….that little witch you've proclaimed me to be. I don't care for you…anymore than you care for me."

She moved to strike me, but something stopped her, her hand paused inches from my face. She lowered it and exhaled through her teeth. "No…. I won't strike you." For the first time, she spoke without even attempting to hide the hate that she felt for me. "I shall…wait for a later date. Believe me…. I don't need to do much to hurt you, after your husband will have hurt you far more than I could ever."

I immediately began to repeat Mrs. Holmes words. "Mrs. Holmes says-

"Anything that a wife has been told to say when her husband beats her." She spits at me. "Indeed, a very reliable source for a woman to believe."

I snort and roll my eyes. "Mr. Holmes-

"Has hurt his wife enough to successfully whip her into submission." She arches a brow. "Did you not fail to notice the scar above her right eye that she so carefully covers with powder? It is discernable still. She will tell you that she fell and hit it against the corner of the table. But my cousin, her doctor tells me….that it's from a whip."

I didn't believe my stepmother, she was a cruel woman, but I still couldn't help but shiver slightly at her words. "You're lying."

She arches a brow and smirks. "Call me what you want, but believe me, that Holmes family is worth nothing except for the money we can extract from them." Her eyes narrowed. "This shall be paid for fully by your virgin blood."

The blood drained from my face at her disgusting words and I pointed towards the door. "Get out. Now."

She laughs, or rather, cackles at me as she heads towards the door. "I wish…I could be there. So I could hear your screams as he throws you to the ground and-

"Get out now!" I scream at the top of my lungs. "Now!"

The door flings open and Mycroft peers through the door, his face curious. "Might I ask what is going on, or would you simply prefer that I escort your stepmother to the front pew where she's supposed to be?" I can only nod and he takes a hold of my mother's arm. "I thought so. I shall send my mother in to help you. The ceremony starts shortly." He then addresses my stepmother. "I always hated stepmothers. Remind me too much of a nightmare from Grimm's Fairytales."

The moment he shut the door, I sank down into the chair and began breathing rapidly, my chest heaving violently as I struggled to breathe and contain my emotions. I reached behind me and pulled the corset free, allowing myself to inhale deeply. The door opened and I let out a started cry from my frazzled nerves. I exhaled deeply as I realized that it was Mrs. Holmes. I covered my heart with my hand. "I'm sorry. I'm just-

She placed a hand on my shoulder. "I know. I know. It's alright now."

Her words were soothing and calming to me. I slowly regained control of my emotions and stood up from the seat. "I'm fine now." Against my will, I found myself glancing at her right brow and true, there was a scar, but I was convinced that I wasn't a whip.

"Here," she reached for the ties and loosened them a bit. "let me help you. Honestly, you don't need to cinch yourself in so tight."

"My stepmother did that." I could feel her quickly buttoning up the back of the dress. I shivered nervously. "Oh, I wish my mother was here." I added hastily. "Not, that you're a poor substitute."

"I am a poor substitute." She said firmly. "I'm a mother-in-law, not your mother. I'm not going to be, nor will I try to be, however, if you wish I shall endeavor to talk to you as one." A tap on the door caused both of us to pause. "If it's anyone from my side of the family," she proclaimed. "go sit back down!"

"It's not." It was my father. "I've got a present from…Sherlock and myself."

I frowned in curiosity. "Come in then."

My father stepped into the doorway and paused as he studied me. He gazed at me for a long moment before turning to Mrs. Holmes. "May we have a moment of privacy?"

She nodded. "Just a moment though, it's almost time for the ceremony to start."

My father stepped towards me, but he didn't speak until Mrs. Holmes had closed the door. He exhaled and handed me a medium sized square box. "These were your mother's." I opened the box to reveal two bracelets with real diamonds in them. I frowned. If father needed money, why hadn't he pawned these? "They were her grandmother's." He explained as he clasped the bracelet on my wrist over my gloves. "She always planned to give them to you on your wedding day."

I couldn't help but ask. "How could her grandmother even afford them? We don't have any ties to a rich family."

He exhaled as he opened the long box, revealing a pink diamond necklace, from Sherlock. Fortunately, it wasn't a large one. It was made with refined taste. The stones weren't too large. He hadn't given me a birthday present yesterday, but then I suppose the cost of this necklace made it acceptable for both my birthday and wedding day.

"I wish, I had the time to explain it, but I cannot." He stepped behind me and fastened the necklace around my neck. "But believe me; I have my own reasons for forcing you into this marriage."

"Yes, the money, I noticed how desperately it was needed. I'll be sure to get my husband to write out a bank draft for you."

"If it were money then you wouldn't be in this situation." My father's tone changed to one of urgency. "But as I am your father and I love you, I forced you into this situation for your own safety."

Now he had me confused. "My safety? How could this be about safety?"

He exhaled. "I can't have explain, but believe me, when I swear to you that I had you marry Sherlock Holmes because I know that his family were the only people I could trust to keep you safe."

Now, he had me worried. "Father? What is it? You're scaring me now."

"That is not my intent, but I don't know when we'll see each other again. But," he glanced around and whispered. "beware of Moriarty and Adler."

The door opened and Mrs. Holmes came into the room. She paused. "I am so sorry, but we're ready for you two to walk down the aisle." She looked at me closely. "Are you alright?"

"Yes!" The words came out rather rushed and I inhaled. "Yes, I'm ready. Go ahead, we'll follow." She stepped out into the hall and I gripped my father's hand. "What is it? Are we in danger?"

"I am, you…are not anymore." Panic surged in my chest. "Now, don't worry." He patted my hand. "I found out what I could about Sherlock Holmes and he is the only man I know of who is powerful enough to protect you and has enough emotions to respect and care for you."

I shook my head. "Why….didn't you tell me this before? What is going on?"

He exhaled and reached for the bouquet of pink roses and handed them to me. "I don't have the time and what I've told you is too much. But, if I do die under any suspicious circumstance, you'll know I was right."

* * *

><p><strong>And so the play continues. Keep your eyes peeled for a second update later today.<strong>


	6. 6: Mr and Mrs Sherlock Holmes

Chapter six: Mr. and Mrs. Sherlock Holmes

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><p>I felt terrified as I walked up to the aisle, clutching onto my father's arm. I was so frightened that I barely knew where I was. My father's life was in danger for some unknown reason and my life was part of that danger. In addition, my marriage, to Sherlock Holmes, while in addition to him being a wealthy man, he was also a very powerful man. His family could provide all the protection I needed to be safe.<p>

Sherlock faced ahead until I was about ten paces away from him. He did turn and look at me and the look in his eyes did cause me to flush. However, something, perhaps his brother's presence beside him, caused him to sober up. My father gave my hand to Sherlock and whispered. "Take care of her."

Sherlock didn't answer, but he nodded his head at my father. His grip wasn't warm or inviting, it was loose. I bit my lip and looked ahead as the minister droned on. Mrs. Holmes said that the fact that Sherlock agreed to marry me was evidence that he had feelings for me. However, standing here, I was inclined to believe that she didn't know her son as well as she claimed. There was nothing, nothing about him to suggest that he had any interest in me at all.

I got the confirmation that I was correct that he felt nothing to me when it came time to read the vows. He held my hand and began to speak the familiar wedding vows. "I, Sherlock, take you Tammy, to be my wedded wife." His tone betrayed no emotion, he sounded almost like a machine, the pitch never changing. "To have and to hold, from this day forward. For better, for worse, for richer. For poorer, in sickness or in health, 'till death do us part." My head shot up at that part. He'd deliberately left out 'to love and to cherish.' He'd sworn to everything, but those two things, which my heart had desired. To do so in a church, before all these witnesses, was a statement to what I was sure of. Mrs. Holmes was wrong and I was right. He had no feelings for me whatsoever. "And hereto I pledge you my faithfulness."

I was silent for a long moment, what could I do? I risked a glance back at my father. But the worry and pleading in his eyes convinced me that I had to go through with this charade. I cleared my throat and recited the vows as straightforward as I could. "I, Tammy, take you Sherlock, to be my wedded husband." I inhaled deeply. "To have and to hold, from this day forward. For better, for worse, for richer. For poorer, in sickness or in health," I hesitated for a moment, before deciding to follow his example. I didn't love Sherlock and I couldn't cherish him. "'till death do us part." I could feel Sherlock gazing at me in surprise so I focused on his hand. "And hereto I pledge you my faithfulness."

Sherlock then placed the ring on my hand. It was a simple silver band. My hands shook slightly until he put the band on my hand. He gripped both my shaking hands in his, steadying them. In fact, I could have sworn he was attempting to take my pulse. I looked up at him curiously, as he glanced down at me. I bit my lip and hastily looked down. There was something about Sherlock Holmes's sculpted face and piercing eyes that always served to cause my heart to lodge itself in my throat.

It was then that the minister spoke the words that I had completely forgotten about. "And now, by the power vested in me, I hereby pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride."

The blood drained completely out of my face at those words. Sherlock's fingers gripped my hand tightly for a moment before loosening it. I couldn't look at him, I wouldn't look at him. If I added up all the time I'd known this man, it wouldn't have even been half an hour. I'd spent at the most fifteen minutes in his company. Now, I was his wife and I had to kiss him, in front of a group of people I didn't know.

"Forgot this part of the ceremony," Mycroft muttered. "little brother?"

Sherlock glowered at him. "Of course I didn't." Sherlock stepped towards me and I shifted back. "Stop moving." He placed his hands on my shoulders and muttered. "Don't move." I blinked rapidly, fighting back the waves of panic that washed over me as he leaned closer. "I'll make it brief."

I bit my lip and released it, closing my eyes as he kissed me on the lips. Dear God in heaven, this _was not _how I wanted my first kiss to be like! The moment our lips touched, I jumped in nervousness. The bouquet fell from my hands and I instinctively reached up and grabbed his forearms to steady myself. I felt him jump at my touch, but he didn't move. The kiss was appropriate and brief.

"Family and Friends, I present to you, for the first time, Mr. and Mrs. Sherlock Holmes." Everyone let out happy cheers as we pulled back. I trembled and I nervously rung my hands.

"Pick up the bouquet Sherlock." Mycroft stated, loud enough for only Sherlock and I to hear. "Don't let your bride do it."

Sherlock knelt and picked up my flowers. I was still unsteady on my feet as he straightened up and handed me my bouquet. "What's the matter?" He asked. "Are you going to faint?"

I shook my head. "No."

"You're shaking."

I took the bouquet and played with the light blue ribbons. "I-I've never…been kissed before."

Sherlock was silent for a moment. "I am sorry." I looked up at him and I saw a form of regret in his eyes.

"Honest?" I whispered.

"Yes." He squared his shoulders and took my arm before facing everyone in attendance. "Had I known that, I would have told you to bring your lips in." I frowned at that statement, but he wasn't done yet. "I assumed that someone of your class and rank would have had experience in this sort of nature."

His words slashed me mercilessly and I looked down to keep the hate from being shown on my face. I got a look at my father's face. He looked relieved and somewhat at peace. However, it was my stepmother who was the curious one…she looked angry. Not a furious angry, but the type of angry that a dark storm cloud is, smoldering anger. It was then I wondered if my stepmother was involved with my father's troubles in some way. On the other hand, could she possibly be the cause of it?

"You might want to try smiling." Sherlock muttered as he guided me down the aisle. "After all, we did just get married."

"Shut up." I hissed through clenched teeth as I gripped his arm tighter. "You've insulted my character at my 'wedding day.' I will act as I think appropriate. Don't worry." I said. "Your reputation will be fine."

We exited the door of the stone church to find a photographer waiting for us. Sherlock groaned. "Ohh, God, no."

The photographer was oblivious to my new husband's disapproval as he instructed us to move closer together. Sherlock tucked his gray hat under his arm and gave the photographer. The man suggested I look up at my husband, but I couldn't do that. I lowered my roses and gazed down at their velvety petals. Evidentially, something about my expression delighted the photographer and he told me to hold that pose.

After the snap, I took a step away from Sherlock. His presence was most offensive to me now. Like an ant crawling up and down my spine. "Are you crying again?" Sherlock asked in a low voice. "I'll have you now that most men are uncomfortable about women that are crying."

"Most men would ignore the fact that their bride is in tears, especially when they know that the bride isn't in love the groom anymore than he's in love with her." I stated calmly as the carriage that was to bring us back to the reception pulled in front of us. "I believe that under the circumstances, I am behaving very well."

"Sherlock?" The sound of a man calling his name caused us to pause and turn around. A man, holding a bloody harpoon, caused everyone to stop and stare. The man look uncomfortable as he looked at us. "Geez, I'm sorry, but this will only take a minute."

Sherlock stepped towards him. "What is it Lestrade?"

John Watson, Sherlock's best man stepped towards him. "It's his wedding day Greg; can't you give him a day off?"

"I only need a minute." He looks at me. "Sorry miss, just need his opinion on where this might have been purchased."

"I don't mind." I state calmly. "It's fine with me."

Sherlock studied the harpoon for a moment. "You won't find this in any store. This is handmade, obviously by an older man. You can tell by the weight and balance of the harpoon that he knows his craft. Probably a favorite of his, since he's got arthritis, so you're looking for an older man. You can see this by the indents that have been smoothed into the broom." He inhaled the wood deeply. "Have them test the varnish used. It's a higher grade varnish, so it's not commonly used." His eyes narrowed as he studied the blood. "Assuming that it went through a body, I would assume that it went completely thought and the killer was interrupted before taking away the murder weapon. Have you tested it for prints yet?"

Lestrade looked guilty. "No."

Sherlock groaned as he pulled out his handkerchief. "God! Why doesn't the station adapt to new methods?"

"I'm not the man who runs Scotland Yard." Lestrade points out. "Talk to him."

"I did. The man's an idiot." Sherlock wrapped his scarf around the handkerchief and handed it to Lestrade. "There. They should be able to get several prints off this. Any ideas on who killed the victim?"

"No."

"And the victim?"

"Angela Pitkin's. A baker's daughter."

"A woman was run through with a pitchfork?" Sherlock's eyes lit up in interest. "Fascinating. Wish you'd come to me on another day, otherwise I'd be helping you."

"Well, we're not completely incompetent."

Sherlock smirks. "Tell me that again someday when I need a laugh."

He turned towards me and I held up a hand. "Don't even bother making opening your mouth. Go ahead, they need your help."

John frowns at me. "Are you serious?"

I nod. "I am."

He frowned and eyed me curiously. "You're not…angry at all?" I shook my head. "Not in the least?"

I looked at him as if he were insane. "Why would I be angry? Somebody was murdered and the police need your help. Go! I'll be fine. Honest!"

Sherlock studied me for a long moment. "Right." He turned to Lestrade. "Let's go."

Lestrade eyed me. "Aren't you at least going to kiss the bride goodbye?"

Sherlock hesitated and looked at me. I didn't flinch under his gaze; he bit his lip before responding. "I don't think so. I'll make up for it tonight."

I swayed slightly as Sherlock hurried down the street with Lestrade following close behind him. His mouth was running in a far more excited tone than it had been when he recited the wedding vows. As I watched him leave, I realized that were a few things I did like about Sherlock Holmes. I liked his absence. I also loved the fact that he was a detective, because he was a detective, he would hopefully be absent for many days at a time.

* * *

><p><strong>I am sorry about the delay, all of a sudden I had jobs being thrown at me left and right. But I'd promised the next chapter and here it is! And to those who haven't guessed, the cover art is the image of their wedding day. Yes, I know the female is Jane Seymour from 'Somewhere in time,' but she was the image for Tammy that I wanted to project.<strong>


	7. 7: Sherlock's revelation

Chapter seven: Sherlock's revelation

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><p>Sherlock had missed the entire reception. Fortunately, for me, John, Mary Morstan and Mrs. Holmes stayed with me for the entire evening. John and Mary were very kind to me. We'd spent most of the reception getting to know each other. John told me all about the adventures and troubles that Sherlock would get himself into. It was fascinating and I encouraged him to write their adventures down.<p>

Everyone at the party was cold and insipid towards me. Sherlock's disappearance had left us open to quite a bit of talk, even after I'd announced that I'd insisted that my husband leave our wedding day to help solve a murder. I'd faked emotions, stating that one of the reasons why I'd admired and loved him was the way he helped others. By the end of my speech, I was certain that I was going to burn in hell for all the lies I'd told.

John and Mary were great company. John was obviously head over heels in love with this lovely blonde; Mary had a beautiful smile and an infectious laugh. John kept me entertained with stories of Sherlock and he fortunately didn't press me too much about how Sherlock and I met and all that. Mary seemed to realize that the marriage wasn't exactly what it was expected to be, but she didn't let on. My father didn't stay for the reception. He'd taken my stepmother and had immediately left. He'd left a note with Mr. Holmes, with instructions for me to open it tomorrow morning.

I was almost sorry when the evening started to end. It was 8:00 and Sherlock had been absent for approximately seven hours. He must be helping tracking the murderer down. The man must be close or either Sherlock had decided to skip the entire wedding and cause more chatter.

As I walked up the stairs with Mrs. Holmes last night, I then realized I didn't know where I was sleeping. God knew when Sherlock was going to be back home and what kind of condition he was going to be in.

I swallowed thickly and cleared my throat. "Where, I mean…which room?" I closed my eyes, unable to answer.

Mrs. Holmes patted my shoulder. "Follow me." I walked down the hall and she opened a door for me. She turned on a light and I blinked. A quick glance showed me that I was in Sherlock's room. I swallowed nervously and she spoke. "He told me to tell you, that you have nothing to fear tonight."

However, her words did little to calm me down. I'd gone in and they'd sent Mrs. Hudson to help me out of my wedding dress and into my nightclothes. I'd curled up into the left side of the bed and closed my eyes. I might have nodded off, for when I opened my eyes up; I could see a familiar shape of a man at the dresser on the opposite end of the room. I would have screamed, but I recognized Sherlock's familiar curls.

I reached over and turned on the light, which fortunately, the switch was by my bed. I clicked on the light and Sherlock spun around to look at me, his eyes were wide in surprise. I looked at him and my heart thudded in my chest. The only thing he was wearing was his pants again. However, the thing that startled me was all the blood in his hair and on his face. "You're bleeding."

"It's not mine." Sherlock evidentially recovered from his shock. "What are you doing here?"

I flushed in embarrassment. "I-I thought…it was obvious. Your mother-

"Failed to realize that our marriage is temporary and in name only." My face stiffened in shock and I almost fainted. I could only watch him as he wiped the blood from his face. "I hope you didn't drink too much at the wedding. That would be the only cause that would serve for you forgetting about our arrangement."

I tilted my head to the side. "Arrangement?"

"Yes." He said calmly as he began wiping the blood off his chest. "I sent you a letter on your birthday, remember?"

I frowned in confusion. "I didn't…receive anything from you."

Sherlock paused and turned to face me. "Didn't you get a letter from me? I sent you one yesterday."

I shook my head. "No. I got nothing."

He groaned and walked over to me. I shifted and pulled the covers up a bit more around me. He exhaled. "Had you received the letter, it would have been the most wonderful present I could have given you. Your freedom."

I shook my head. "I-I don't understand."

He sat down on the edge of the bed. "Look, you didn't want to get married to me and I didn't want to get married to you. Frankly, I wasn't at all interested until you mentioned your mother and your belief about the circumstances of her death."

Light began to break over me as I began to comprehend the meaning of his words. I could only stare at him. "You, you mean that….you simply married me, to get permission to dig up my mother's corpse?"

Sherlock looked down at me. "Of course I did. Why else would I marry you? I told you, I wasn't interested in relationships, so why would I wish to assume a relationship with you?"

Everything began to become embarrassingly clear. "Why didn't you tell me this?" I demanded as fear and anger surged up inside me.

"I did!"

I jumped out of the bed and shouted at him. "No, you did not!"

"I set you a note with your birthday present yesterday!"

"I never got the letter, note or the present!" I shouted. "Three items can't all go missing by the post."

He ran his hands through his hair in agitation. "I didn't use the post, I had Mycroft," his face still as realization flooded over him. "ohh, Mycroft. It had to have been."

"Don't go blaming your brother for _your _carelessness!" I snapped as Sherlock looked at me. I glanced down at myself, realized that I was dressed in only my nightshift. I flushed and screamed. "Don't look at me!"

"Then put something on!" He shouted. "For God's sake, you're standing there virtually naked!"

I reached for his red night robe that was draped on the edge of the bed and pulled it around me as my face heated. "And you don't suppose I just realized that? The least you could do is avert your gaze!"

"It's nothing I haven't seen before." He glowered at me as someone tapped on the door. "Come in Mycroft!"

Mycroft came into the room; he was still in his clothes. His eyes darted around the room before studying us. "Pardon me, but could you two keep your….affectionate overtures down on a more quiet level?"

"Affectionate overtures?" I snapped. "We're having an argument."

"As there's a fine line between love and hate," he stated simply. "those particular emotions are all the same to me."

I groaned and tucked my hands into Sherlock's dressing robe sleeves. "Oh, will you talk to him?"

Sherlock frowned. "Why me?"

"He's your brother!"

"Your brother-in-law!"

I shook my head. "Well, is our marriage in name only or not? If not, then you should speak to your brother!"

Mycroft groaned. "Look, can't the two of you just go to sleep now and settle this in the morning? It's rather late for this."

"Oh you'd like that wouldn't you?" He tilted his head to the sight with a tight smile on his face before hissing. "Get her out of here Mycroft!"

"Why?" Mycroft asked calmly. "She is your wife. Where else would she be?"

Sherlock snapped at him. "she is not my wife!"

"You married her today. Everyone saw."

"I'm sure I can prove that there was some kind of drug induced into everyone's systems that produced hallucinations. The average human memory on visual matters is only 62% accurate!"

"For God's sake Sherlock," Mycroft rubbed his forehead in exhaustion. "before you do anything drastic, why don't you take a few days to get to know her?"

"No!" Sherlock snapped. "I told you, I only married her to have the authority to dig up her mother's corpse! Her father wouldn't have given me permission and she certainly doesn't have the authority to give me the permission. I do now! I certainly don't need this weak, empty-headed female in my life for any reason!" My mouth fell open in shock. "Women were designed for pleasing men. Or at least, that's what their main function is intended to be."

Mycroft groaned. "Sherlock, don't be-

"She doesn't please me, nor do I want to be pleased, so therefore! I want this insignificant person out of my room now!"

I couldn't think of anything to say. My mind was in such a furious swirl that I thought I was going to faint. I couldn't stand here a moment later. I ran out of the room, shoving Sherlock to the side. Mycroft stepped aside out of my rush. I ran down the hall, straight down the stairs and out the front door into the cold night. As I slammed the door, I heard Sherlock shouting something about coming back with his robe.

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><p><strong>Sorry about the delay, I've had a very busy day today. I might not be able to post a chapter tomorrow, but I shall try!<strong>


	8. 8: Murder!

Chapter eight: Murder!

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><p>I'd made it halfway home, I don't know how I was able to shake Sherlock Holmes, but I did. This was my stomping grounds, not his. I sloshed through a puddle of water and stepped on a broken bottle. I gasped in pain and leaned up against a brick wall to pull the glass from my foot. I hissed as I pulled the sliver free. I examined the ground, determined to avoid more of the dark spots.<p>

As I prepared to move on again, I heard a man shout in pain. I paused as my blood ran cold for a moment. I could have sworn, it was my father shouting in agony. I hesitated and listened to what was going on.

"You think you saved her?" An unfamiliar voice sneered. "You didn't!"

My father, I was certain of it now, laughed bitterly. I knew his laugh well. "I did. She's married now and you," he groaned in pain and coughed. I suspected somebody hit him in the stomach. This felt like a nightmare. I wasn't supposed to be here. "can't….get your greedy hands on her."

"Ha!" That was my stepmother's voice I heard. "Do you really think that Sherlock Holmes is going to stick with her? You're wrong!" she laughed and I heard a rustle of paper. "See this? This is Sherlock Holmes's writing. I intercepted a letter for her from him, this marriage, is a sham!"

"You're lying." My father gasped out.

"Ha! He tells her that she will be free to marry the man that she truly loves after they marry. He simply needed her hand in marriage to dig up your wife's corpse."

"And he will find that you…murdered her!" My father spat.

I gasped and covered my mouth. "Murdered?" The other man said in a teasing, Irish voice. "No. she drank the poison of her own accord."

"After you pointed the gun at my head!"

I shook my head in denial. I couldn't believe I was actually hearing this. "Well," he hummed. "it was rather the point to motivate her to drink the poison. It worked well though didn't it?" his tone darkened slightly. "Then you had bump into Mycroft Holmes a few months later and arrange for her to be 'safely' married to Sherlock Holmes. Well, that's not going to happen, I'm still going to get her."

"She knows nothing!" My father spat. "And you won't get her."

"Well," at the sound of a click, I carefully peer around the corner and I find my father on his knee, facing my direction. His eyes widen for a moment, before facing my stepmother and the other man. Both of them have their back to me so I cannot identify the other man. "you see, she doesn't know me…and I can and _will _woo her to be my wife. Sherlock is the type of man to marry a woman to examine a corpse, not the kind to keep her after the ceremony."

"She won't have anything to do with you, Moriarty!"

I bit my lip so hard I drew blood. "Yeah, well, you won't be around to warn her about the 'bad boys' this time."

It was then that Moriarty fired a gun three times and my father fell back onto the pavement. I couldn't hold back a scream as I turned and ran. I didn't look back, I didn't even bother to look back. I wasn't going to give them a face to match with the scream. I ran hard and fast. I knew these streets like the back of my hand and that gave me an advantage. I was in shock, but my survival instinct was strong. I tore Sherlock's robe rounding a corner, but I didn't stop. I knew a shortcut that would get me back on an actual road sooner.

I ducked through a large hole in a fence, ran through some bushes and splashed through an icy cold stream. I wasn't going to stop running though. As I reached the edge of the park, I risked a look back over my shoulder, to my relief, there was no one behind me. But I wasn't stupid enough to stop running. I still had several blocks to run before I made it back to the Holmes house.

I stopped for a moment to gather my wits about me before whirling around and smacking into somebody. I screamed in terror and looked up to see Sherlock standing there! I began shaking in relief as he looked down at me in confusion. I never thought I could be glad to see Sherlock Holmes, but I was in this moment.

He however, was not glad to see me. "Oh, for God's sake," I threw my arms around his waist and clung tightly to him. "will you let go," His voice began to die in curiosity. "what….is…going on?" He gripped my shoulders and pulled me away from him, but I didn't release him. His eyes narrowed as he studied my face before widening in slight concern. "What happened? Tammy? What is it?"

I gasped for air and as much as I wanted to say what I'd seen, I could only get out two words at a time. I pointed back where I'd come from. "My father….murdered. Shot…Elm Street."

"Murdered?" The almost delight in his voice was almost enough to send me off into another bout of hysterical screaming. "Someone murdered your father?" I nodded, as his grip on my shoulders grew tighter. "Did you see who did it?" I nodded and he semi-groaned. "That won't be much fun." I stared up at him in horrified shock at his cruel, unfeeling words. "Who was it?"

I didn't want to answer him, but a firm shake from him sent the word bubbling out of me. "Moriarty!"

Sherlock's eyes flashed and his grip on my shoulders tightened. "How do you know about Moriarty?" I wanted to answer him, but I couldn't speak. I began crying harder and Sherlock gave me a shake. "Tell me!" He shouted in my face. "Now!"

I inhaled and screamed in agony. "He killed my father!" Everything began to break over me in waves and I began to hysterically fall apart. "Oh God! My father's dead!"

"Where?" He shouted. "Where?!" I couldn't take his violent nature. I wrenched free from his grip and ran away from him. "Tammy?" He bellowed behind me. "Stop!"

I refused to stop. I continued running away from him. A carriage came out in front of me, forcing me to stop. The carriage door opened and fortunately, it was Mycroft with his parents. Sherlock grabbed a hold of my arm. Again, I was able to wrench free and I threw myself in Mrs. Holmes's arms, sobbing hysterically.

"What did you do to her," Mrs. Holmes snapped in fury. "William Sherlock Scott Holmes?!"

"Me?!" Sherlock snapped in shocked indignation. "I didn't do anything. Her father was just murdered."

"Oh for God's sake," Mycroft snapped as he got out of the carriage. "you've really got to work on your sense of timing." Mycroft resumed control of the situation. "You two, take her home, send a policeman down here. We'll go keep an eye on the crime scene and make sure it isn't contaminated. Where is it brother mine?"

Sherlock pointed. "She came running that way. She wouldn't specify where on Elm Street."

"Well, shall we?" Mycroft asked, furnishing a gun from underneath his night robe. "Shouldn't take us more than five minutes to find it."

Sherlock glowered at him. "This requires legwork, you're actually going to investigate?"

"Well, I figure it's the least I could do for your bride."

At the word bride, I began crying harder. I didn't remember anything much after that. Too much had happened for me in the past ten minutes. My father was dead, murdered by my stepmother and somebody that Sherlock knew. Now, they were going to be after me for some reason. Now, I was tied into a family that I had no right to be in. I had a mother-in-law who cared for me, a brother and father-in-law who were indifferent to me and a husband who hated the sight of me.

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><p><strong>And...the drama begins!<strong>


	9. 9: Anything but boring

Chapter nine: Anything but boring

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><p>I didn't fall asleep until 6:00 in the morning, I'd cried so hard that night. Mrs. Holmes had stayed up with me for an hour until I'd calmed down, then she'd settled me into a guest room for the night. Mycroft and Sherlock had obviously told her Sherlock's true intentions and she had decided to avoid any further embarrassment.<p>

When I woke up, it was 1:00 PM. I'd stood and looked around the room. The only thing I in this room was a light purple, lacy robe. I put it on and surveyed my appearance. It was modest enough and I had to find out where my clothes were. I knew my wedding dress was in Sherlock's room and my clothing was to be sent over this morning. My hair was a mess, I sat down and began combing it free of all the pins that were sticking all throughout my hair. My head ached dreadfully. As I eyed my reflection in the mirror, my eyes were swollen and I looked dreadful. My skin tone appeared as if I had a fever.

I carefully exited my room and tiptoed down the hall. Once I made it past Sherlock's bedroom, I went down the stairs. All the servants eyed me curiously, but they didn't say anything to me. I drew my robe carefully about me and entered the parlor. Fortunately, for me, it was deserted. I sat on the sofa and drew the robe tighter around me. I wanted to cry, but I was so sick of all the tears and emotions of sick, painful darkness that I was experiencing.

I looked around the room and my eyes fell on the piano. I loved the piano and I hadn't played it in a while, but my fingers remembered their skill. I smoothed the lacy robe around my body before I began to play the piano. My favorite piece was Ludwig Von Beethoven's 'Moonlight Sonata, Opus 27, No. 2, Adagio Sostenuto'. I began playing slowly, before allowing the hurt and pain I felt to grow inside me as a passionate emotion. I gazed out the window, looking at the rain pelting the window and the rose bushes outside while my heart bled onto the keys.

I lost myself in the glory and genius of Beethoven, allowing his music to soothe and calm my troubled soul. For the next seven minutes, all was soothing and peaceful. My fingers rested on the ivory after I played the final bars. I inhaled and exhaled, reveling in the peace that I felt after this beauteous moment.

"So," Sherlock's voice caused my eyes to fly open and I turned to look at him. "you're a musician as well?"

"Hardly."

"You're good." He stepped towards me, his hands tucked into his tan dressing gown. I couldn't help but wonder why he still wasn't dressed yet. I had a very valid excuse, he had none. "You played that piece superbly. I never figured you for a classic music lover."

"You figured wrong Mr. Holmes." I turned sideways on the bench so I could face him better without craning my neck. "I do love classical music. I love and appreciate the art that they left behind."

"Have you ever thought of performing live?" He questioned. "It might provide you for a source of income. You're averagely attractive, should capture the attention of the media."

"Thank you for your compliments and insults, it's getting difficult to tell them apart." I stated. "No, I'd never play live for I hate people looking at me and I know for a fact that I don't play well enough." I bite my lip and look down at my hands, vexed to find them shaking. "I'm sorry, that was uncalled for."

"Are you feeling alright?"

The stupidity of his question irritated far too easily. Especially right after I'd sincerely apologized. "My father was murdered right before my eyes Mr. Holmes." I stated frankly. "I am feeling nothing."

He shrugged. "Well, that's good. Emotions are a bit of a prohibitory."

I slammed the lid down on the piano and jumped up. "God! Are you really such an emotionless machine that you honestly believe that I honestly feel nothing?" I shook my head. "I feel like Hell! He was all I had in my life! now all I've got is you and your family!"

"Well, you've got my mother at least." Sherlock reached into his pocket and handed me some papers. "I need you to sign these."

I frowned as I took them and unfolded them. "What are these?"

"Our marriage annulment papers."

My hands froze and I looked up at him, ready to shout at him. However, Mrs. Holmes beat me to it. "William Sherlock Scott Holmes," he closed his eyes, as if warding off an oncoming blow. "you are not annulling your marriage to Tammy! She's absolutely perfect for you!"

Sherlock bit out, endeavoring to keep his temper in check. "I don't care mother. I only married her to exhume her mother's corpse! Miss Hooper is examining it as we speak and I intend to have these marriage documents taken care of immediately."

"Sherlock!" She scolded him. "You two were just married yesterday!"

"I told you, it was just to examine her mother's corpse. It's been dug up and it's being inspected! So, after I look at it, I want to drop these papers off," he stated. "signed, sealed and delivered. I don't want her in my life!"

"Well, I've got bad news for you," I stated as I found my voice. Sherlock and Mrs. Holmes turned towards me as I tore the annulment papers in half. "I'm not going for an annulment Mr. Holmes." The look on his face was priceless. "You're stuck with me."

Mrs. Holmes smiled at me and she wrapped an arm around my waist. "Good for you!"

Sherlock stared at me in shock. "Hold on a minute! What the hell happened to cause you to change your mind?"

"Language Sherlock!" his mother scolded. "Or I'll have your father talk to you!"

"Sorry!" he stomped up to me. "Why…do you want to stay married to me? You don't love me, we both know that's true." he said darkly, pointing out the obvious. "I am incapable of loving anyone. You want love, I can't give it to you. so why…do you want to spend your life shackled to me if I can't give you what you want?"

"Jacob didn't love Leah," I explained softly. "he loved Rachel. Leah loved him and even though he didn't love her in return, she was a valuable woman in his life." I found some strength as I allowed myself to be calm. I was an adult and in spite of my grief, I shouldn't be flying off the handle like this. I needed to help Sherlock find my father's killer and avenge his death. "I have nothing now. This family…and those vows I made to you yesterday are all I have. I must hold onto them or else I am dishonoring this family and myself."

Sherlock threw his hands up in the air. "How did I get into this mess?"

"By forcing the issue." I reminded him. "You, were the one who told them to arrange the marriage." He glowered at me. "You made a mistake and now you must learn from it."

"I've learned from it, no need to punish me."

"I can't leave you anyway." His brows widened in indignation. "My father made me promise before we were married." That caught his attention. "Your father has a letter from my father, I believe it may aid you in solving why both of my parents were murdered. However, my father made it perfectly clear," I blinked away the tears that were building in my eyes. I cleared my throat. "that…I must remain married to you."

Sherlock groaned. "Oh, God! Is everyone against me?"

"It had nothing to do with you." I explained calmly. "It had something to do with Moriarty." He stopped and I knew I had his attention. "For some reason, our marriage is preventing him from getting his hands on something. Until you find out what it is, and have that mad man put away for life or executed, I'm staying as your wife."

Sherlock rubs his chin, contemplating. "We'll have to discuss this further. But more importantly, you saw Moriarty's face. What did he look like?"

I frowned. "Don't you know?" at his glower I exhaled and sat down. "Never mind, if you did, you wouldn't have asked me." as much as I hate to admit the truth to him, I confess. "I only saw the back of his head."

"Then how'd you know it was Moriarty there?" Sherlock questioned.

"I paid attention to the conversation. Father addressed him as Moriarty." I added. "Moriarty also made it clear that after you've annulled the marriage as you're totally predictable," he glowered at those words. "that he will woo me and get whatever it is he needs from me."

Sherlock frowned. "You're….insignificant."I exhaled, I was slowly getting used to his verbal abuse by now. "What…would Moriarty want with some insignificant like you?"

"Then maybe," Mrs. Holmes said as she began to move out of parlor. "she's not as insignificant as you think. I'll get you two something to eat. You two must eat something."

"Thank you." I bit my lip as Sherlock studied me closely. "So…what do we do know?"

"Do? We solve the crime." He clapped his hands together and walks across the top of his mother's coffee table to sit in the chair opposite me. he gestures for me to sit down before climbing into his chair. He then did the most unusual thing in the world. He perched on the seat, with his backside against the backrest. His elbows were on his knees while his hands were up, cuddling his chin. He looked like a monkey! "Right, let's start at the beginning and don't be boring."

"If you've failed to realize it Mr. Holmes," I stated as I sat down. "our entire relationship has been anything but boring."

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><p><strong>Lady Gisbourne 15: Sorry, I was doing some charity work all day and I didn't get home until 4:30 tonight! I was exhausted, but I've regained my steam. Hope this chapter is good! I figured since you've been checking your email once an hour, I could at least post this chapter as soon as I'd finished it.<strong>


	10. 10: Achilles' heel

Chapter ten: Achilles' heel

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><p><em>My dearest daughter,<em>

_I am sorry I don't have time to explain this to you fully, but I am watched and I'm risking everything, as it is to tell you this. I am sorry that I had to force you to marry a man you don't love, but it's because my love for you is so great that I risked everything to be sure that you'd be safe. _

_The wedding was the only reason why you were given the diamonds. I had no idea she still possessed them. A banker came and delivered them to me the day before your wedding and I had to fight hard to keep them hidden. I don't know what, but they contain a great secret. Something that Moriarty wants. I don't know how he found out about your mother's possession of them. I only found out about them after meeting Mycroft Holmes. At first, I thought you could at least meet Sherlock, and then your stepmother revealed her true nature. It was that morning I decided that you'd wed him. Forgive me, but I hope I've done the right thing and hope you can one day find happiness with him. I don't have time to write a will, so this shall have to serve as one. But I bequeath all of my worldly possessions to my daughter, should I be found dead the day after her wedding._

_With deepest love,_

_Your father_

"Well," Sherlock exhaled. "that was tedious." I glowered at him. "So, where is this precious bracelet?"

I hesitated. "Why should I give it to you?"

"Because I'm your husband and I asked you for it."

I shook my head. "Not good enough." I picked up a piece of bacon and bit into it. "Asking would be one reason for it; the fact that you're 'my husband' is not."

He exhaled. "Sorry."

"You're just saying that." I said without hesitating or blinking.

He looks mildly surprised that I am starting to recognize how his emotions honestly are after spending so short a time together. "Yeah, but at least you got to hear it. I don't apologize to anybody."

"I know that."

He frowned. "How could you know that?"

"It's in your attitude." I picked up the cup of cocoa and sipped it. "I don't trust you yet, how do I know you'll give it back to me?"

"Would it help if I had my parents and Mycroft present for the moment I examine it so you can rest assured I'll return it you?"

I shrug. "I guess so." I bite my lip and ask. "And…as our marriage is…tied into this mess, might I ask, what public image shall we retain?" at his frown I ask. "Are we to act as a happy married couple, or shall we just be ourselves, but a little politer in society?"

He crossed his legs and drummed his fingers on the arms of his chair. "I favor the later, but I really don't care."

"Neither do I, but I wish for your mother not to have to make excuses for us as to our attitudes. I figured we should discuss it."

"If we're going to discuss things," he stated conversationally. "I suggest we talk about sleeping arrangements." I choked on my cocoa. "In light of the fact that Moriarty, possibly one of the greatest criminal masterminds is after you, I suggest you sleep in my room from now on." my eyes widened. "Technically, we are married so it's acceptable. Your room has a balcony, making it easy for anyone to come in and get you. Also, if he believes that we haven't consummated our marriage, he'll expect you to be in your room, not with me at night." I gulped slightly and raised the cocoa to my lips again. "And don't worry, you don't need to worry about the fulfillment of any wifely duties." The cocoa fell from my hands at those bland words. Sherlock's face as always showed no emotions. "I'm not interested in anything of that sort with you."

"So, you'll find procreation with the form of some whore instead?" The words slipped out of my mouth faster than I could stop them. No, I wasn't jealous, but I didn't need to be constantly treated as if I were a pathetic, wet animal that was dying in the street. My father had an affair with that maid while married to my stepmother. True, I didn't love Sherlock and I don't know if I could stand the thought of him making love to me. But the mere idea that he'd prefer a whore to me was an insult.

His brow arched as he stood up. "I should phrase that better." He picked up the coffee pot and refilled it. "I'm not interested in having sex," my whole face flushed. "with anyone at all."

"Can you not phrase things much more delicately? Does…nothing," I bite out. "embarrass you?"

"No," he said tartly. "everything is perfectly natural."

"Why am I not surprised that you'd say something like that?"

"Why should it disturb you?"

"Because it's embarrassing!"

"Why should something natural be embarrassing?"

Fortunately, I was spared the options of having to answer that question. The butler knocked on the parlor and entered. "Forgive me for disturbing you, but, Mrs. Holmes's stepmother is here to see her. She's very….upset."

Sherlock nodded. "Thank you, show her in please." Again, he walked over the coffee table and sat down next me. He set his cup of tea aside and said abruptly. "Put your head on my shoulder." I looked at him in curiosity. "Do it now!"

I did as he asked and put my head on his shoulder. "Why?"

"Go to sleep!" I closed my eyes and feigned sleeping. I felt his arm go around my shoulders and I tensed slightly. "Just relax, I wish to talk to your mother in private for a moment."

I closed my eyes and tried to act relaxed, but then his hand began stroking my hair. It seemed like such a caring gesture, but I knew it was all play. My stepmother came in the room, sniffling, the awful perfume of hers always pervaded the room before she entered it.

"Shh," Sherlock murmured. "she's sleeping." My stepmother's sniffles seemed to suddenly fly out the window. I wanted to peek, but didn't dare. Still, I could imagine the look of stunned surprise on her face. "It took her forever to drop off after the news."

The couch Sherlock had been sitting in previously creaked, letting me know she was sitting opposite. "How'd you find out?" She questioned.

"Some street girl bumped into Mycroft while reroute to find the police." Sherlock said casually, his hand continuing to brush my hair. "Mycroft then informed us as we went down to make identification, however, she couldn't handle it and I returned her home with my parents."

"Do you have…any idea how this happened?" With my eyes closed, I could hear how unconcerned she as for my wellbeing. Nor did she sound the least bit upset that her husband had been murdered. "Any at all?"

"Eight so far, but, I don't discuss cases with anyone involved until I've solved. It's a policy of mine and makes it easier to work, as people love to gossip."

"I see." She inhaled. "I hope…the news didn't spoil the wedding night."

The fact that she was interested in our wedding night, let me know she was trying to confirm my virginity status, which Sherlock was happy to confirm. "Actually, no, we're sleeping in separate quarters." He explained quietly. "I feel it's for the best until we know one another better. Your stepdaughter is really, quite an exceptional woman." His words caused my heart to stir, even if it was a game. "You see, I fell in love with her the moment I met her. I can, and I will win her heart."

Sherlock shifted and my head fell from his shoulder. I landed in an uncomfortable position, so I shifted to a better position. However, I landed in my head in his lap. I didn't know how Sherlock was going to play this, but there wasn't any earthly way that I'd still be sleeping through this.

I let out a whimper as I stirred awake. "She's waking." Sherlock murmured. "Do try to keep your hysterics under control. She's exhausted."

I opened my eyes and saw Sherlock's face hovering above mine. As much as I wanted to push his face away from mine, this was a game we were playing and I was willing to play my way straight into Sherlock's bed to ensure that Moriarty and my stepmother were put in jail for the rest of their days.

I yawned, not faking it at all, I really yawned. "Sorry, I must have drifted off."

"No need to apologize Tammy," he said my name oh so gently that I seriously began to question if this was the same man I was married to yesterday. I wondered if he'd discovered last night that he was dying from a terminal disease yesterday and now he's trying to get into heaven through me. "it was quite enjoyable for me to give you comfort."

I reached took ahold of his hand, which was stroking my cheek, and squeezed it. However, I had a double motive for that, in addition to it looking good, he no longer had his hand on my face. "Thank you."

He showed no change in his emotions. "Your mother's here."

I stated the obvious. "My mother's dead."

"Sorry, stepmother." He helped me sit up. I leaned into his side as he draped an arm around my shoulder. He studied me closely. "You should get some fresh air. Shall we go to the park later?"

I nodded. "Yes. That would be nice."

Sherlock looked at me for a moment before asking. "Can I kiss you?"

His words startled me for a moment, but I nodded hesitantly. "If…that's what you wish."

"It's what I wish," he said gently. "but, I'd rather you simply said 'yes' to me."

My stepmother all but jumped up out of the chair. 'Excuse me, I must go."

Sherlock and I looked up at her as if realizing that she was actually in the room. "Sorry," I said as I shifted into a far more comfortable position. "I'm just-

"I actually feel very much relieved that you've got someone to take care of you." Her eyes revealed exactly the opposite. "I was just coming to see how you were doing."

"Don't let us keep you." Sherlock said, a hint of his old self coming out. My stepmother glowered at him before walking briskly out of the room. Sherlock waited a few moments before jumping out of his seat. "Witch. God, I hate those kind of women, so annoying."

I shook my head and looked at him in bewilderment. "Why…did you do that?" He turned and looked at me somewhat blankly. "That performance."

"I'm giving Moriarty a moment to show up. She's obviously going to go tell him that you're about a week away from legally being my wife, based on our affectionate nature already."

"Won't the letter she intercepted cause them to be curious about our sudden change of emotions for each other?"

"Yes, but people can grow attached after incidents, particularly traumatic. You never had a relationship with your stepmother, so it would be logical that you'd turn to me."

I look at him. "You said to me you don't have a heart or emotions. Wouldn't he find _your _change of heart rather different?"

He shrugs. "If I'm as predictable as he believes I am, there must be a flaw in me for human error. Everyone has an Achilles' heel, best for him to believe that it's you." He clapped his hands together. "Now, we've got some planning to do. Because, if he intends to woo you, he's going to have to attempt to do it out from under my nose. The fact that the marriage bed hasn't been made yet, will give him enough nerve to figure out some way to get to you. And when he does, I'll be ready for him."

I stared up at him for a moment before saying. "If you wanted to use me as bait, you could have at least said so!"

"You're a good actress," he said. "you play off of people well. That could come in handy." He looked down at me. "What else can you do?"

I shook my head. "A great many things, I suspect you'll find out more as time goes by."

* * *

><p><strong>Lady Gisbourne 15: Yes, I can't wait for them to become friends, but I gave you some fluff in this chapter, even if it was a game. Don't worry, things are going to take an interesting turn after Moriarty's captured and then, they've got to make a decision about their marriage.<strong>


	11. 11: Dressed to please

Chapter eleven: Dressed to please

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><p><em>Four days later,<em>

* * *

><p>Sherlock glanced at me. "You and mother need to go shopping. You need to buy a new dress."<p>

I glower at him. "What's wrong with my dresses?"

"Nothing. They're all light colored, virtually innocent looking and boring."

I cross my legs as I lean back in the carriage. "Why don't you tell my why you really want me to buy a new dress? You're still storing eyeballs and thumbs in your nightstand dresser. They're starting to smell, but you don't care. My dresses are innocent looking," I paused for a moment and asked. "are you trying to say you don't like my clothes?"

"When we first met, you were wearing this outrageous, bright shade of blue. That was the only thing you've worn that made you look somewhat attractive." I rolled my eyes as he continued questioning me. "What happened to it?"

I exhaled. "My stepmother burned all of the clothing in my closet except for the pastel colors after we met."

"And you didn't think to tell me?"

I looked up at him. "My goal in this temporary life is to try to be helpful and not cause trouble."

"The fact that half of your wardrobe was burned," he explained calmly. "it wouldn't be trouble if you admitted that you needed more clothing. I told you, while you were here under my protection, that I would take care of you as husbands are expected to do. Is it too much to ask that you confide in me like a wife should?"

Sherlock Holmes was a very difficult man for me to comprehend at times. Last night was actually the first night we actually shared a bed together. Sherlock would go out during all odd hours of the night and he'd sleep for an hour or two before getting up and continuing whatever he'd been working on. when we actually woke up in bed together, at the same time, we just stared at each other for about thirty seconds before deciding to get out of bed and get dressed.

I'd go out with him and we'd be seen in the proper places for society's sake. We'd got to the park and remain absolutely silent the entire time. We'd have dinner and Sherlock would try to gross me out by giving me gory details about some of the cases he'd already solved. However, it never worked, which irritated him beyond all belief. We were always irritating each other, it seemed unavoidable.

We were somehow able to work together in his lab. I'd log all specific scientific data for him, making it easier for him to look up, even if it aggravated him. I did use my money to purchase several filing drawers, sorting them by the contents. Poison, guns, chemicals, and a short write ups of the cases that he'd solved. I'd also filed the names of all the people he'd come across, those who were dead or in prison. He liked those, allowing his 'memory palace' some extra space.

"Tammy," Sherlock's voice brought me out of m distant thoughts. "are you listening to me?"

"No. I drifted, sorry," I now gave him my full attention. "what were you saying?"

"Nothing important." He leaned back in his seat. "We're merely expecting Moriarty and your mother for dinner tonight." I choked and sat up, he remained impassive. "I need you to try to find something attractive in your wardrobe to catch his attention."

"Are you implying I couldn't catch his attention in my dresses?" My dresses were pretty colors, even though I didn't favor pastels.

Sherlock shook his head. "No."

I stuck my head out the window. "Stop the carriage!" the carriage jerked to a stop and I reached for the door. Sherlock grabbed a hold of my wrist and I pulled free and opened the door. I spun around and held out my hand. "I'll shop now and get it done."

Sherlock frowned. "I really don't approve of you going about without a chaperone, especially with what's going to unfold tonight."

I groan. "Just give me some money and I'll buy a dress for tonight. Something special. I'll pay you back."

"Don't bother. Be sure you buy yourself all the appropriate accessories needed as well."

I frown. "You're being nice to me, that usually means you want something. What is it?"

He exhales. "Fine, I want you to wear that bracelet tonight."

"That's all?" he nods. "Are you telling me the truth?"

He groaned and reached into his coat pocket and pulled out his wallet. He handed me a large sum of money without even counting it. "Buy yourself whatever you want. If there isn't enough, open an account and have them send the bill to me."

I hesitated and asked again. "Whatever I want?"

He snorted. "Of course, I said so didn't I?" he then realized that I wasn't used to being able to do such things. He softened his tone. "As per our agreement, I will take care of you; I can afford whatever it is you need. In fact, by yourself a complete wardrobe." I began shaking my head in protest. "I insist. If you don't pick out an entire wardrobe, I'll send a message back the store and ask the manager to complete your wardrobe."

I bite my lip and say. "If you want to examine the bracelet afterwards, you can do that." At his curious look, I stated my reason. Sherlock had granted me a few days to earn his trust before allowing him to look at my mother's bracelet. "One good turn deserves another. I'll let you see it after the party."

* * *

><p>I was going to kill him.<p>

Sherlock banged on the door again. "Are you ready yet?"

"You asked me that exactly two minutes ago." I stated as I glanced at the clock. I reached for my lipstick. "Go downstairs and greet my mother. Keep her talking and I'll walk on down."

"Why?"

"I'm going to make an entrance. And don't ask me why, you'll see why. Now go!"

"Stop ordering me around."

"Turn about is fair play. Besides, you're going to what I say anyway." I can tell by the step of his footsteps that he's already halfway down the hall. I smirk. "That's a good little boy."

This man was determined to drive me crazy before we got our marriage annulled. I'd come home and found all but two of my dresses gone. There was no doubt in my mind that Sherlock had taken them out and burned them or something. I was glad I'd been able to find some gowns that were very stylish and new.

I stood up and teased several curls free from my upswept hairdo. Satisfied with my appearance, I removed my protective robe to reveal my crimson dress with black beads. I loved this dress the moment I'd seen it. there were tons of black beads on the skirt, lacy black sleeves and black fringes. The bracelet was a little unusual, but I added a silver necklace, so my bracelet didn't stand out as much.

I opened the door and walked down the hall. I could hear my stepmother's voice downstairs and a man's voice. My heart stopped as I recognized the voice. It was Moriarty. I inhaled deeply several times. Sherlock was expecting a lot from me tonight, he was going to allow Moriarty, the man who killed my parents to make a pass at me. however, the goal was to get him to incriminate himself.

I smoothed my dress down and carefully moved towards the staircase. I placed my hand on the banister and began to walk down the stairs. All three heads, Sherlock, Moriarty and my stepmother, all looked towards me and their faces froze. True, I was wearing red and it was a scandalous color, but I produced such interesting reactions from all three of them.

My stepmother's expression was one of horrified hatred, if that was even possible. Moriarty, it was obvious lust and desire. He looked at me as if he were a child eying the last ice cream cone within a ten-mile radius of his house. But it was Sherlock's expression that caused me to falter slightly on the steps and my cheeks to heat. If he was acting, he was doing a good job. He was looking at me as if…he were seeing me for the first time in his life. no, he was actually looking at me as if he was in love with me, but I knew that was impossible.

I stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked at Sherlock. He studied me for a long silent moment, making me grow more and more uncomfortable. "Do….I look alright?"

"You're," he said slowly. "proof of heaven."

I flushed harder. "Thank you." he leaned forward and kissed me on my cheek. It wasn't difficult for me to gently push him aside. "Sherlock, please….we have company."

"Sorry." He murmured right by my ear, causing me to jump. I glanced up at him curiously, vexed to find his eyes dancing in amusement at my discomfort. "I keep forgetting you're still so shy." I looked away from him, turned toward my mother and Moriarty. Sherlock smiled took a hold of my elbow. "Ahh, Tammy, allow me to introduce you to James Moriarty." I managed a smile, somehow. "Moriarty, my wife."

"Charmed," he drolled lazily as he took my hand, the one ironically with the bracelet on it and kissed my hand. I felt Sherlock's grip on my elbow tighten just slightly on my arm and I glanced at him curiously for a second. His expression was emotionless, but his other hand, the fingers are tightly flexed and taut. Moriarty looked up at me, his dark eyes betraying mischief. "and honored."

I smiled as I daringly curled my fingers over his hand and spoke a lie to the man who'd killed my parents. "I'm glad to meet you." But then, the moment the words left my mouth, I realized an awful truth. I was glad to see him, for it wouldn't be long before this man was in jail for the crimes he'd committed.

* * *

><p><strong>Lady Gisbourne 15: Yes, the play acting plays a huge role for the two of them in this one. Because up to a point, they're going to get lost in the playing. <strong>

**And to those wondering about Tammy's red dress, envision Rose's red jump dress from Titanic.**


	12. 12: Catastrophic kisses

Chapter twelve: Catastrophic kisses

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><p>Dinner was easy to go through. Sherlock dominated most of the conversation, as always, allowing me to come off as slightly bored with my 'loving husband.' Moriarty kept trying to start a conversation with me, but Sherlock kept interrupting him. If I didn't know any better, I'd say he wanted to keep Moriarty away from me. However, as I was the bait, that didn't consist with his idea to entice Moriarty's attention. On the other hand, maybe he was making me look more desirable by coming off as the oppressive, ignorant husband.<p>

Then, we all went into the parlor; Moriarty fell into step with me. Sherlock had gone ahead, forgetting to pull my chair back for me. He cleared his throat and smiled. "I've been helping your stepmother clear out your father's belongings." Fortunately, Sherlock had already gone over our house that night my father died. He hadn't found anything, which meant Moriarty and my stepmother, had removed some clues as to what we were up against. "Thought I'd see you down there sometime, to collect your belongings."

I shook my head. "No. Sherlock…has forbidden me to go down there. He thinks it'll delay…the healing process."

"I am only concerned for you," Sherlock said stepping alongside me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "and your safety. I've no wish to inflict anymore pain on you."

Moriarty arched a silent brow. "Oh." I had a funny feeling he was attempting to stir up some sort of controversy between Sherlock and I, which wasn't going to be too difficult. "I thought you were a modern man Mr. Holmes, let the woman speak for herself."

Sherlock smirks at him. "There are limitations to how I allow the modern world to influence my home."

I rolled my eyes and looked down. Moriarty cleared his throat. "Oh, before I forget, I got something for you."

Sherlock stopped in place, his fingers gripping into my shoulders. "You bought a present for my wife?"

I shrugged free. "You're hurting me."

"Sorry."

"Oh no!" Moriarty said too innocently. "I didn't buy her anything. Please, allow me to explain."

"Do." Sherlock ordered him.

Moriarty hurried out of the hallway and went towards the general direction of the main entrance. I looked at Sherlock, he was practically seething. "Aren't you overdoing it a bit?"

"Aren't you?" he bit back.

I looked up at him in surprise. "What on earth are you talking about?"

He glowered at me. "Red? I told you to pick up something. I didn't say to show up looking like a-

"If you call me a whore or trollop," I hiss. "I swear I will hit you."

"Lady of the night!"

"I'm not listening to this anymore." I moved to walk away from him, but Sherlock grabbed my arm, whirled me back and slammed me against the wall. I gasped as he grabbed a hold of my wrist tightly, pressing me against the wall, eyes blazing. When his hand slid down to grip my hip, I almost jumped clean out of my dress in shock. "Sherlock," I gasped out in shock. "what are you," words died as he kissed the pulse point on my neck.

I squirmed and tried to push him away, but my right hand was the only hand I had free so I had little success. What _had _gotten into him? Had he forgotten that Moriarty was going to be coming around that corner any second? His hand suddenly grabbed my thigh firmly and I let out a startled yelp. "Stop it!" He ignored my request and freed my other hand, gripping my hips in both of his hands. I jumped and began pushing at him. The feelings that were surging through me were controversial. Part pleasure and part panic. "Stop. Don't. Please."

Sherlock then yanked me hard against his body. I let out a gasp of panic and began strongly debating to call for help. He then released my hips, gripped my neck and kissed me on the mouth! I feel as if my heart will stop beating, these actions are so unexpected that I have no idea if he's playing games with me or not.

His lips move to my neck and he latches firmly onto the skin there. Kissing, tasting and sucking the skin, marking me as his. I let out several whimpers, this situation is spinning rapidly out of control and I don't know if it's a game anymore or not. "Stop it!" Sherlock's hand cups my breast and grabs it, I jump in terror. "No! Please stop!"

The sound of some approaching causes him to pull away. It's Moriarty, whistling a song that I know but can't recall because I'm so rattled. I stepped away from Sherlock, giving him a push. He whispers. "Nicely played. Now he'll really start making a move on you." I stared at him in amazement. Why had he done that without giving me a single warning? He had no sympathy or regard for me. Tears began to build in my eyes and I wiped at them as Moriarty rounded the corner. His eyes took in the entire scene and his mind imagined the worst. Sherlock placed his hand on my shoulder. "Come."

His touch revolted me and I pulled free from his grasp. I surprised Sherlock and even myself as I snapped. "Don't touch me!" the moment I did it, I knew it was the perfect move. Moriarty knew now that things weren't all perfect between us. There actually was some conflict and the fact that I couldn't stand Sherlock's touch would please him. Sherlock looked slightly surprised. He reached for me again and I stepped out of reach. "Ever!"

Something in my eyes must have told Sherlock that I would still play the game, but he had overstepped his bounds this time. He nodded and stepped aside, gesturing for me to enter the parlor. "Then go."

I eyed him out of the corner of my eye, for some reason, I was worried that he was going to grab me. However, he didn't. Moriarty stepped alongside me, I turned towards him. At this moment, he seemed to be much less of a threat than Sherlock. "I'm sorry," my voice was trembling. "you were saying…you had something for me?"

"Yes." He wisely watched Sherlock out of the corner of his eye. He handed me a book, still wrapped with a bow. "This was your father's wedding present for you. I guess….he never got to give it to you."

"Thank you." I untied the ribbon with shaking hands and smiled as the familiar cover of Wendy and Peter came into view. Upon opening it, I realized that J.M Barrie had autographed it. Tears filled my eyes as I ran my hand over the signature. "Oh, how wonderful of him to do so."

"What is it?" Sherlock asked peering over my shoulder. I could feel him frowning. "He bought you peter pan?"

"Yes." I smiled as I ran my hands over the cover. "He'd take me to see the play every Christmas since it opened eight years ago. It was my favorite."

"I thought you were the more Charles dickens type." I bit my lip to keep from exploding at the sound of Sherlock's voice. "Peter Pan is such a child's story. Like, who'd never want to grow up? If you didn't grow up, then you couldn't do a ton of things."

"Oh for God's sake," I shouted, shocking everyone, including Moriarty. "will you just shut up?" Sherlock froze in place, concerned that he'd pushed me so far. "I've had it with you! I've had enough of you tonight!"

I turned and ran out of the room, clutching the book to my chest. I could hear Sherlock shouting after me, but everyone kept him from following me. I ran out the back door and ran into the garden maze. I collapsed on the nearest chair in the garden and began crying.

A few crunches, told me that someone was coming, not even granting me a moment to cry. I looked up to see Moriarty there. He smiled tightly as he reached into his pocket and handed me a handkerchief. "Here, you need this."

I felt disgust at myself for accepting his comfort, especially at this moment, but I'd do anything to lure him in. I set the book down beside me and took the handkerchief. "Thank you." I sniffled and wiped my eyes. "I'm sorry about that."

He waved my apology off and sat down beside me. "Don't think about it."

"He's, had a hard day," I explained feebly. "he's…not normally like that."

"Oh. Does he molest you on a fairly regular basis?" the handkerchief fell from my hands in amazement at his blunt words. "Or does he only do that when he's upset?"

I stood up and picked up the book. "This is none of your business."

He refused to let me step past him. "I know, but I'm curious. Now, does he?"

I shook my head in bafflement. "I-I shall….ask that you…watch your conduct." He rolled his eyes and stepped towards me, backing me up against the garden wall. "Or, I'll tell my husband."

"You won't." He drolled. "Not him."

"I might!" I inhaled sharply, I was getting nervous now and I hoped Sherlock would show up soon. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Because, you don't love him, do you?"

"I made a vow." I reminded him.

"So? People make vows all the time. That's what people do!" he crosses his arms. "But no one ever expects anyone to keep them, do they? Not when their other partner is so miserable…and could be happy?"

At that moment, I made a decision, I'd stop fighting him and go for it, go his way as he wanted. I crossed my arms and stepped away from him. "Is it that transparent?"

"Very." His hands on my shoulders caused me to shiver and I closed my eyes, to him, it could be interpreted as pleasure. "I hate him you know."

I opened my eyes and my heart jumped to see him so close to me. I stupidly licked my lips and his eyes went to my mouth. "Why?" I asked hoping to draw his attention away from my mouth.

He looked into my eyes and smiled a sick sort of smile. "Because…he has you." Dear God, how could I possibly be able to bewitch two men without meaning to? Moriarty leaned forward, both hands against the garden wall on either side of my head. "Would you mind kissing me?"

My eyes widened in shock. "What?"

"Would you mind?" He repeated. "I figured I'd at least ask your permission."

"I am married."

"Really?" His brow arches silently. "Your stepmother tells me otherwise."

"She talks too much." My face heats without any coaxing on his part. "What happens in our bed, is none of her concern."

"Well, has anything happened," he pressed me again. "in your bed?" I looked down and shook my head. "I thought not."

"Please," I begged him as I held his gaze. I was frightened now. "we must get back."

"They know I'm here with you. I was the only logical person to send out after you." he studied me closely and leaned forward slowly. "So, how about it?" I couldn't answer him. I was in a panic. "You don't have to kiss me back, but, you could at least try it."

All I could do was stammer and Moriarty, not sensing any resistance on my part, moved in to kiss me.

* * *

><p><strong>And I'm going to leave everyone hanging.<strong>


	13. 13: Anger, apologies and affection

Chapter thirteen: Anger, apologies and affection

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><p><em>Dear God, please send Sherlock or anybody here. <em>I pleaded mentally as Moriarty moved in closer. I closed my eyes, hoping and praying for this moment to pass. His lips brushed mine and I inhaled as revulsion filled me.

"Tammy?" Sherlock's voice caused both of us to jump. Moriarty looked towards the maze entrance and I hastily moved to sit back down on the bench where I'd been moments ago.

Moriarty glanced at me. "I'll see you tomorrow. And maybe," he smirked. "we'll try that again without interruptions."

I shook my head as Sherlock came around the corner. His eyes took in the sight of both of us. He cleared his throat. "Your stepmother's leaving." He glanced at Moriarty. "You too."

Moriarty grinned. "Right, but a bit later. I just persuaded Tammy to come in and play for a bit." He had his back to me so he couldn't see the look of astonishment on my face. "She's a classical music lover, just like me." Sherlock's eyes narrowed and his fingers tensed. Moriarty seemed to enjoy taunting Sherlock. "She's going to favor us with Johann Sebastian Bach's 'Organ Choral Preludes/ Nun Komm der Hieden Heiland'." He turned and smiled at me. "A favorite of mine."

* * *

><p>I must have done something favorable in God's eyes lately for He gave me the strength to carry on this charade for ten more minutes. Moriarty stood over my shoulder, patiently turning the sheet music while Sherlock glowered at me from across the end of the piano. Moriarty kept stroking my back or arm, whenever Sherlock looked away from me. The tension was getting so thick that I was afraid that a fight would break out.<p>

Somehow, we made it through the evening without any mishap. However, after biding our 'guests' farewell and the front door shut, the explosion happened and it was Sherlock who blew up first. "What the Hell was that?" He shouted in my face. I flinched and jumped back, surprised by the extremity of his anger towards me. "May I remind you that, that man killed your father?"

"You don't need to remind me of that!" I shouted back at him. "Do you think I got any pleasure being kissed by him?"

Sherlock's eyes flashed in fury. "So you did kiss him then?! I had my suspicions."

He went to grab my shoulders but I kicked him in the knee. "You keep your hands off me!" I shouted as he lunged at me. "Don't you ever touch me again!" Sherlock caught me around the waist and I fought him as he lifted me up from the ground. "God! Haven't you already assaulted and molested me enough for one evening?"

"Sherlock Holmes," his father ordered. "put her down this instance! Now, boy!"

Sherlock studied his father for a moment, deciding if he was or wasn't going to listen to his father. He decided that he was going to listen to his father. Sherlock released me and I sank to the floor, looking up at Sherlock, wondering when he'd become such a monster. He inhaled and exhaled before demanding as calmly as he could. "What…happened out there?"

I spun around and struck his face, he grabbed my wrists as I pounded his chest. "Where were you?" I shrieked. "I needed you!"

"I was nearby?"

"Nearby? Nearby?" I shouted. "I was forced to kiss my parent's murderer because you were 'nearby'!"

"You survived."

"Survived?" I rolled my eyes. "That is not my vision of survival! And then you?" I shouted at him as he pulled me up from the ground. I wrenched free from him. "What got into you?"

Sherlock didn't even look remorseful. "I did what I had to do. Your pathetic, weak, damsel in distress was needing some color."

"Why did you do that?" I demanded as he turned and walked out of the parlor. I followed him, I didn't care that his whole family was watching our whole exchanged curiously. "You just grabbed me and started kissing me out of the blue!" My words caused him to stop and catch the attention of every living thing within hearing distance. "Couldn't you have given me some warning?"

He snorted. "You respond better without being instructed. You're getting a hold of this game."

"In the future during the games," I shouted after him as he walked away from me. "keep your hands off me and don't ever kiss me like that again!"

"Oh for God's sake," Sherlock groaned. "it was just a kiss. It didn't mean anything."

"To you, maybe," I snapped as I stomped up the stairs towards him. "but to me, it means a whole lot more. And it wasn't just a kiss! You grabbed me," heat flooded my face. "or should I say groped me inappropriately."

"Again, it was simply makeup." He glowered down at me. "Why are you so upset? If you're wanting more, I ain't giving it to you." he began stomping up the stairs. "Ask Mycroft if you want that kind of recreation! I don't care what you do, just leave me alone!"

"You started this! You want to know why I'm upset?"

"No!"

"I'm going to tell you why I'm upset." He continued up the stairs and I followed him. "I'm upset because my mother told me that a kiss is a precious gift and it wasn't meant to be handed out to just anybody." He stopped and turned towards me. "You stole my first kiss from me under duress, stop stealing them from me without my permission. Kisses are to be given, not taken. Even Moriarty had the common sense to ask me, which frankly is extremely terrifying since he's supposed to be the bad guy!" Tears filled my eyes as I begged. "Stop it Sherlock, just, stop taking things from me. You're my husband in name only. That does not give you the right to my body or anything about me. You don't own any part of me! I'm not yours to have! You may be surprised to know it, but I am a human being as well. And much as I hate being in this Hell hole with you, the only thing that keeps me sane is the thought of one day being in the arms of the man who I was meant to marry!" I inhaled deeply. Sherlock's expression for once was serious, as if her were finally understanding what was going on inside my heart. "And as it may surprise you to know it, I am scared! I don't know what's going to happen! I could wake up dead tomorrow because of Moriarty and now, I don't even trust you, which isn't a good situation! You're supposed to be helping me, but tonight, you've let me down in so many ways I don't think I could ever trust you again!"

I turned and stomped into our bedroom and slammed the door, locking it before unlocking it and shouting down the hall. "And you're sleeping on the couch tonight!"

"What!" Sherlock proclaimed as I slammed the door on whatever it was he was saying. "Wait a minute, Tammy!"

I locked the door and began to get out of my dress. Fortunately, it only had a few buttons and I pulled the dress easily over my head. I undid my corset and reached for my nightdress and robe. After putting them on, I sat down at the makeup table and began removing my hairpins. Someone tried the doorknob and I snapped. "I locked the door and it's staying that way!"

The doorknob jiggled a few more times and I turned to see the door open and Sherlock standing there in the doorway. I grabbed my facial cream and hurled it at his face. He ducked and closed the door behind himself. "You really, need to calm down."

I stared at him in amazement. "Don't tell me the Hell to calm down! I'm not calming down! I want you out of here!" Sherlock strode towards me, his hands on my shoulders, pulling me up. I began fighting him again. "Oh, let me go!"

"Stop fighting." His tone was calmed, almost caring. Then, he did the most unusual thing. He wrapped his arms around me, pressed me against his chest and just held me. I didn't know how to react, but I slowly did stop fighting him as he rocked me back and forth. Slowly, as he stroked my hair, I wrapped my arms around his waist, holding onto him tight. "I am sorry." This was probably the first real apology he was offering me. "Forgive me."

"I needed you," I whimpered as I clung to him. "And you let me down."

"I am sorry about abandoning you in the garden, I'm sorry for making advances towards you in the hall. You're naturally a strong woman, so I forget that you're a virgin and certain things make you uncomfortable. I shall try to remember that in the future."

I looked up at him. "You're not saying this…just to try and get back into your bed?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm genuinely sorry."

I had no cause to doubt him, not when we were this close. For some reason, my heart began to warm towards Sherlock. Suddenly, I began to see him as more than the man I was stuck with, but as a man in general. It was very unnerving, but, I did believe him.

"Alright," I said quietly. "I forgive you and…I'm not sorry for what I said but, I'm sorry for how I said it."

He smiled. "Alright," he leaned forward and kissed the corner of my mouth. I trembled as his lips lingered there for a moment before he drew back and smiled down at me. "you get some rest."

I inhaled as he drew away from me. "And, you don't need to sleep on the couch. This is your room after all, not mine, I've no right to kick you out."

"You're my wife," he pointed out. "you have that right."

I smiled. "Then, I'm invoking my right to have you back in here." I turned and sat down to resume brushing my hair. "You go change."

I saw his reflection in the mirror as I brushed my hair. He was watching me as I brushed my hair for a moment before walking out of the room. As he did, I had a strange thought. What if I fell in love with someone like Sherlock Holmes? But I shook it out of my head immediately. I couldn't take that lifestyle, nor could he. But, if he was the man that I caught a glimpse of mere moments ago, I could love him.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry about the delay, but I shall try to update later.<strong>

**Lady Gisbourne 15: Sorry, I debated, but I felt I should add that kiss and I'm glad I did.**


	14. 14: Promises

Chapter fourteen: Promises

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><p><em>The following morning,<em>

* * *

><p>"What are you doing down here so early?" Sherlock's voice so near my ear caused me to jump and jab my eye on the eyepiece of the microscope. I grabbed onto my eye and let out a groan. "Sorry."<p>

"That hurt!" I complained as he took a hold of my face and began to survey the damage he'd given me.

"I gathered, let me take a look."

"It's fine," I said as he peeled my hands off. "it just hurts."

"Open your eye."

"No."

He arched a brow. "Open it or I'll open it for you." after a few blinks and winces, I'd opened my eye. His expression was serious as he looked at my eye. "No damage done, but you'll have a slight bruise under your eye."

"Great, now everyone will think you hit me."

He snorted. "People think a great many things, none of them are true." He cleared his throat and asked. "What are you doing down here?"

"I wanted to get a head start." I proclaimed. "I was up anyway."

Sherlock studied me silently before proclaiming. "You didn't sleep at all last night did you?"

I exhaled and peered back into the microscope more gingerly. "No I didn't."

He's silent for a moment before saying. "Your father would be proud of you."

I snorted as my shoulder went lax. "Yeah, for kissing the man who murdered him." I said sarcastically. "He'd be very proud."

"He'd be proud because you're willing to do anything to bring his killer to justice." I paused in place. "I can't think of another woman who'd have the guts to do what you did."

I spun around on my chair, leaning my elbows back on the table. "Was that a compliment?"

He didn't blink. "Could be."

I eye him for a moment, we're both locked in a stare down until I speak up. "You're after something." I stated. "You're never nice to anybody unless you want something."

He shook his head. "That's not true."

"Fibbing Sherlock."

"If I wish to pay you a compliment-

I held up a hand as I reached into my apron pocket and handed him the bracelet. "Here it is." his eyes narrowed as I plopped it in his hand. "Go ahead."

He frowned at me as I turned back to the microscope. "I wasn't after this."

"Don't deny that you had that in the back of your mind Sherlock Holmes." I teased him. "I know you of old."

"I hardly believe that we battle like Benedict and Beatrice."

I laughed. "We're well on the way there." I looked away from the microscope and began sketching the chemical onto the nearby pad. "So, what's unique about the bracelet?"

"Well, the diamonds are cut to perfection stated. The backing of the bracelet, though pure gold, isn't real." I glance up as Sherlock went to his instrument drawer and pulled out a strong needle. I watched as he began poking at the backing until the whole back fell off. He glanced up at me and added. "It'll all snap back into place."

I shrugged. "I don't mind."

He frowned. "The whole back of your mother's bracelet fell off and you don't mind. Why not?"

"I hate diamonds." I peered back into my microscope. "Why else do you think I've never worn any diamonds?"

Sherlock paused, reflecting back on all the jewelry I'd worn before stating. "You like pearls, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Moonstones as well?" I nodded. "And your jewelry are all set in silver, as opposed to gold."

I smirk. "You're paying attention."

"I simply reflected back on what I'd seen you in." He stated calmly while he began examining tiny pieces of paper. His eyes widened in delight. "Ah, the root of the murders."

"And please say that it was worthwhile, otherwise I'm going to be so mad."

"Define a worthwhile murder."

I bit my lip. "No murder is worthwhile, I should correct that. But if they were murdered because someone was upset that father married mother, or stole a thousand pounds, that would be ridiculous."

Mrs. Hudson came into the room with a tray containing my cocoa, Sherlock's coffee, sugar cubes, biscuits, butter and jam. "Here you two go." She stated as she looked around. "Now, where shall I put this?"

I stood up. "I'll take this Mrs. Hudson. Thank you."

"Oh, it's not trouble dear. I figured you two were down here." She smiled proudly. "You two are always down here working away together." I flushed as I took the tray and relocated it to the table. I glanced at Sherlock; he was glowering slightly, telling me that he was running out of patience. "It's a nice change."

Sherlock spoke up. "Mrs. Hudson, I recently purchased a house; I will be relocating there in a few days. If you don't mind, could you go down and take a look at what will need to be done down there."

I smiled as I put two lumps of sugar in his coffee. "What brought this about?"

"The final puzzle piece," he said without looking up from the paper he was organizing. "I'm also making it easier for him to abduct you."

I jumped. "That doesn't make me feel any better Sherlock."

"Don't worry, you'll be perfectly safe." I shook my head in dismay. "The address is 221B Baker Street Mrs. Hudson. Find the least annoying members of staff my parents have and go look at what needs to be done. We'll be moving in within three days."

"Three days!" She proclaimed. "That's impossible."

Sherlock smirked at her. "Make it possible. Now go."

Mrs. Hudson hurried off and I approached Sherlock with his coffee. "You really are so mean to her sometimes."

"She babbles incessantly." He looked at his coffee. "What's this?"

"Your coffee." I pointed out. "Black, with two sugars."

He took it from me, his hand encasing my finger for a moment. "You've been paying attention as well."

I smiled, but offered him no comment as I peered over his shoulder at the pieces of paper that he'd carefully unfolded. They were written in code and it wasn't one I was familiar with. "What do these say?"

"I'd say that it's a book code, but the numbering is irregular." Sherlock said. "What was your mother's favorite book?"

I smirked. "Romeo and Juliet." Sherlock groaned as I laughed. "I said you wouldn't like it."

"That would explain why the letter of the code was so unfamiliar." He pointed at the paper. "But, if it's Shakespeare, that would make perfect sense." He looked around the room. "I wonder if I kept that copy of Shakespeare's works."

"I moved all the books up to your room for your personal library," I reminded him. "remember? You needed more space." I patted his shoulder. "Drink your coffee before it gets cold. I'll go get my mother's book."

"Stop doing that that." He stated. "It's too…wifely."

I swatted his shoulder. "Drink your coffee." Sherlock threw a pen at me; I laughed and made a face at him. "You missed me!"

He said something that I didn't hear. Frankly, I didn't care; both of us were in a good mood for a change. I took the well-worn book carefully from my nightstand and carried it downstairs to Sherlock. I opened the door finding him holding a torch near my cocoa. He looked up at me and turned it off. I arched a brow. "What did you put in there?"

"Nothing." When I reached for a test tube, he pulled it from my hand. "Take a sip, you'll find I only heated it."

"No eyeballs or anything of that sort in my cocoa?"

"Nothing in that sort." I handed him the book and he took it carefully. "Thank you." I reached up and took a sip from my cocoa. Sure enough, it was hot, boiling in fact. I set it down with a cry and inhaled sharply before heading to the refrigerator where he usually kept body parts. Fortunately, the refrigerator was empty and the ice was fresh. I chipped off a piece of ice and sucked it, cooling my burning mouth. I turned back to find him look at me. "I swear," he stated. "you get stranger and stranger as the hours go by."

"Shut up and decode the book. Next time, cut that time in half." I inhaled and reached for a biscuit and the jam knife. "So, any ideas?"

Sherlock exhaled. "Your mother was a very clever woman. Look," he pointed to the paper, at one set of numbers. , followed by another set of numbers, all were groups of four. "first act, third scene, sixth line, and the first letter of the fourth word. This could take hours."

"Well, I'm glad to know that you regard someone in the lines of my family as brilliant." I took a bite out of my biscuit, sending crumbs down his jacket. "Sorry." I mumbled around the biscuit as I brushed his shoulder off. He exhaled. "I'll go with Mrs. Hudson and help out."

Sherlock frowned and looked up at me. "How will that help her?"

"Believe it or not," I held my hand out to him for examine. "these lily whites of mine have done some housework."

He took my hand and examined it. "Indeed," he turned my hand over to examine it more. His eyes narrowed. "You even painted your parent's house rather recently, within two months."

I tugged my hand free from his. "I'm not asking how you noticed that." He opened his mouth and I placed a finger on his mouth, silencing him. "Don't bother explaining. I know you know and it's brilliant. Now, just promise me you'll let me know the instance you crack the code."

He nodded. "Promise."

"Good. See you later."

"Don't leave that house without Mrs. Hudson!" he called as I walked out of the lab. "Promise?"

"I promise!"


	15. 15: The truth comes forth

Chapter fifteen: The truth comes forth

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><p>I stood back and admired the parlor. It was perfect; the walls were shades of deep green and the furniture now complimented the room. All the plumbing was working. The house really just needed a good cleaning and a few coats of paint. Mrs. Hudson smiled at me. "I don't know how you did it Tammy; everything just goes by so fast when you're working with us."<p>

I wrap an arm around her shoulder. "It's because I'm so bossy."

She shakes her head. "You're determined and enthusiastic, there's a difference. Sherlock should love this."

"I hope so."

"And the way you renovated that entire basement into a lab for him," she shook her head excitedly. "he should love it. I've never seen him this happy before."

"I assure you Mrs. Hudson; I do not make him happy."

"Nonsense." She shook her hand at me and went to arrange a pot nearer the window. "Just because you two don't sleep together," my face heated in embarrassment. Did everyone in this house know our sleeping arrangements? "doesn't mean you can't make him happy. There is more to love than just making love Tammy, you know that and so does he. I think it's wonderful."

"Thank you Mrs. Hudson." I cleared my throat and gazed around the room, desperate to come up with another topic.

"Young people nowadays, excluding you and Sherlock, are always looking forward to the physical side of a relationship. However, it's not that side of their marriage that will hold them together."

A door banged open. "Tammy?" Sherlock shouted. "Where are you?"

"Excuse me Mrs. Hudson." I stepped towards the parlor door and hollered. "In the parlor, Sherlock?"

Sherlock ran down the stairs and hurried towards me, his nose was twitching. "You've been painting in here?"

"Yes. A few rooms, what is it?"

He held out the paper, all pasted together again. "I broke the code."

Excitement built in my veins. "You did!" Unable to resist I threw my arms around his neck! "Wonderful!" I released his neck and asked. "What is it?"

"Oh, you'll never guess." He took a hold of my arm and guided me into the parlor. He frowned. "Green?"

I paused. "Do you like it?"

He looked around as he removed his hat. "Believe it or not, I actually do. It looks much more efficient." He handed me the paper. "Here's your mother's original note." I took it and glanced at all the numbers. Sherlock then handed me another piece of paper. "And this is the code cracked."

I frowned. "This still doesn't make much sense. It simply says Dubonnet, Baker Street, and a bunch of numbers."

"They're coordinates."

"For a location."

Sherlock can barely able to contain his excitement. "And it also says what it contains. The Dubonnet diamond."

I frown. "I've never heard of it before, sorry."

"The Dubonnet diamond is a 200 carat, purple diamond that went missing about twenty years ago. I actually remember this case, I always suspected the prostitute who found the owner's dead body, but I couldn't get anyone to listen to me. I was only seven at the time and were about to be born. You actually were, the next day."

"Name?" I asked tightly, afraid to know the answer. "The name of the prostitute?"

"Her name was Anthea, refused to give anymore of her name. Probably a fake." I groaned and sank down on the nearest sofa. He frowned and looked down at me. "What's the matter?"

"My mother's name was Anthea." Sherlock's face grew curious. "Anthea Delarosa." I looked at him as I sat down beside him. "My mother murdered the owner of the diamond?"

"Possibly. I didn't have a chance to examine the body." He rubbed his hands together. "I've requested the paperwork on the body, as most of the evidence will have likely disintegrated." I looked down at the ground. "I must say, your father had excellent taste in picking you for my bride. I can't name another bride that comes complete with a mystery like this."

"Not funny Sherlock." I elbowed him as tears filled my eyes. "My mother was a murder."

Sherlock placed a hand on my elbow. "For the record, Mr. Dubonnet was an unsavory man. your mother could have acted in self defense."

"Though robbery suggest otherwise." I state firmly as I glower at him through my tears. "You don't need to mollycoddle me, I'm not a child!"

"Alright, after murdering Mr. Dubonnet, your mother buried the diamond in a safe and secure location. She then, put the location of the inside the bracelet, so after twenty year, she can say she found it. with Mr. Dubonnet dead and there being no relatives, there would be no reason for her not to keep it."

"I think I'm going to be sick." I moaned as I leaned forward slightly, the world spinning around my head. "I can't believe this. And her blood flows through my veins."

"If you're worried that I'm worried that you're going to try and kill me," I dropped my head into my arms at Sherlock's tone. "don't be. You're not like your mother at all."

"How do you know?" I demanded looking up at him.

Sherlock had a half-smile on his face. "Because," he brushed my chin with my thumb. "you were raised better; you're not as clever as she is. besides," he smirked. "you're obviously more interested in solving crimes than committing them."

I exhaled and removed the towel I'd bundled all of my hair up into. "How does Moriarty fit into all of this?"

"I did some research." I began twisting my hair up in a knot, preparing to pin it up. Sherlock reached up and pulled my hand down. "Don't go pinning that up. Apparently, Moriarty and your stepmother grew up together in the orphanage around the corner."

I stared at him in amazement. "And he saw the whole thing?"

"He's thirty now, I'm guessing he was ten when he witnessed the murder." I shuddered in disgust. "What?"

"He's almost ten years older than me."

Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Now, I'm guessing it took him several years to track your mother down. Now, as near as I can tell, she took the poison involuntarily but the gunshot wounds, believe it or not, were self-inflicted."

I gasped in horror. "What?"

"Tammy," he said gently. "the poison would have driven her mad. She was in such agony that she preferred to end her life quickly."

"And my father?"

"He had no idea of the bracelet, until it was given to you on your wedding day." He explained. "However, with that man running around and plotting to marry you, I was the perfect candidate for the groom."

I nodded. "Well, he did his best."

Sherlock cleared his throat. "I'm guessing this means that we'll only be working together for a few more days."

A cold, sick feeling filled my stomach. I nodded. "Yes." I couldn't look at Sherlock. "I'll miss helping you."

Sherlock cleared his throat. "Well, you could always stop by. You make a great secretary."

Those words mercilessly slashed my heart. I closed my eyes briefly before standing up. I had no idea why I suddenly felt this way. I wanted to desperately shove the hurt aside, but I couldn't do it, the pain remained.

I cleared my throat. "Yes. It'll be a great way for me to pay back whatever it is you spent on my wardrobe."

He shook his head, a curl falling over his forehead. As hard as Sherlock tried, he couldn't keep his hair tidy. "That's not necessary."

"As you noted Mr. Holmes, I'm a stubborn woman. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got to get this house looking somewhat decent."

He nodded. "Alright, I'll let you get back to work."

I walked away, refusing to look back, hating myself for suddenly feeling this way. I don't know what it was. then, I reflected back on how I'd addressed Sherlock. I'd called him Mr. Holmes. Why, had I gone back to an impersonal title? Why? Why had I done that? Was I putting up a wall around my heart? And if so, why was I putting it up where he was concerned?

* * *

><p><strong>And the heartbreak begins.<strong>


	16. 16: The final motion

Chapter sixteen: The final motion

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><p>"Tammy?" Mrs. Holmes's voice caused me to jump out of my thoughts. I looked up and glanced at her. "Did you hear me?"<p>

I shook my head and exhaled. "No, I'm sorry, I'm very distracted."

"I can imagine. You and Sherlock moving into your own house tomorrow."

I glanced down at my book. "For a few days….then….I'm out of his hair."

"You're in love with him." Her soft words don't cause me to stir an inch. I bit my lip and looked down. "I can tell." I chose not to answer her. "You're not arguing with me."

"How can I argue," I ask quietly. "when it's a ridiculous thing to imagine?"

"I'm asking because you're crying."

I bit my lip as I reached up and touched my cheek. Sure enough, it was wet with tears. I held up my book as an excuse. "I'm reading sense and sensibility. Elinor just found out Edward is engaged to Lucy Steele."

"You've been like this for days, ever since Sherlock kissed you."

"It meant nothing." I added hastily. "He did it to add color to my character and it worked."

"But he stole more than that kiss didn't he? Your heart got involved as well." She questioned. "It was after that incident that the two of you changed towards each other. You didn't argue as much, you two actually laughed for a while. Then…Sherlock solved the code and things changed again. What happened?"

I inhaled. "I was reminded that my temporary act as his wife was almost over. It's going to be over soon anyway. He doesn't want me and I don't want him."

"Are you sure?"

Those three little words caused me to freeze. I thought back for a moment. I thought back on how he'd treated me these last few days. I thought about how miserable I'd been so since the time for Sherlock and me to spring the final trap before seeking an annulment. My hands began shaking, the book fell from my hands, and I covered my mouth to hold back the sudden sobs that had welled up inside me. I looked at Mrs. Holmes in apology for the sudden burst of emotions. She set aside her teacup and held me as I cried as I realized that I'd fallen in love with the husband I'd been forced to marry. And the worst of it was, he didn't love me. That realization made me cry harder.

"Ohh, Tammy," she soothed me gently. "you need to tell him."

"No!" I cried out. "I can't!"

"Tammy you're miserable and he deserves to know that you love him." She said firmly. "You must tell him."

"He doesn't love me!" I wailed. "I cannot, be chained to a man, who has no feelings for me!" and I looked up at her, madly wiping my eyes. "And why would I tell him when he made it clear that after the annulment I'd make him a great secretary? Besides," I sniffled as I reached for a napkin on the table. "he's said to me that he's divorced himself from feelings."

"I'm sure he didn't mean that."

"He did! He has no interest in love, a wife or having children." I regained control. "I'm sure it's temporary. It's been…the strain of what's going to happen and…I'm nervous. I'm just…trying to find something to hold onto in this time and it's him."

"Well, now that you've got him," Mrs. Holmes said. "I hope you don't let him go."

"Tammy?" I jumped and stood up as Sherlock entered the parlor. "We just got an invitation to join a friend of John Watson, Michael Stamford, for dinner tonight."

"And?"

"Moriarty's going to be there." he stepped towards me. "Get ready to put on the greatest show of your life tonight."

I nodded. "Of course. I am an actress, that's all I do. Act."

Sherlock laughed. "Wonderfully put. Now, better make sure you've got the proper dress on tonight." His eyes gave me a quick once over. "Something that…stimulates the imagination." And with that, he walked out of the room.

* * *

><p>I glanced at my reflection in the mirror. I'd chosen a deep forest green dress to wear. It was stunning on me. however, the plunging back served to stimulate the imagination. I had purchased an emerald necklace with a chain hanging down my back with an emerald heart hanging down the back. The dress was beautiful, I hate to admit it, I looked beautiful in this dress with my hair carefully and playfully pinned up and teased. My makeup was perfect and I had all my accessories.<p>

And I felt like a kiwi bird next to a peacock. I was that miserable. I stood up, reached for my white, lacy beaded wrap, and moved towards the door as Sherlock barged in. For once, he was dressed in an actual suit. The last time I'd seen him in a suit was when we married. Last night, Sherlock hadn't even bothered to put on a coat. He'd lounged around as if he were at home alone. I paused, reflecting how most of the time I saw him, he wore only his pants and a button shirt. I had no idea why I suddenly thought about his appearance. But maybe I did so because, for the first time, Sherlock actually looked handsome to me.

Sherlock paused and looked me up and down. I cleared my throat and turned around slowly, allowing him to view me in this dress. "Is this stimulating enough for you?"

"Vversyfine." I frowned and looked at Sherlock curiously, he made a face as if wondering what made his voice change like that. He cleared his throat and spoke again. "You look very fine."

"Thank you." I shook my wrap out and prepared to throw it over my shoulders. Sherlock took it from my hands and stepped around behind me to put it on my shoulders. "Thank you."

He didn't answer me. his large, warm familiar hands brushed over my shoulders, causing me to tremble slightly. His touch didn't linger though, he went and opened the bedroom door for me. "Let's get this evening over with." Sherlock stated as he hurried down the hall. "The sooner the better." His tone was brisk and abrupt.

I shook my head and went down the stairs. I couldn't wait for this to be over. I didn't want to keep imagining myself in love with Sherlock. I would be glad for this case to be over and then the feelings that were torturing me would fade.

* * *

><p>My stomach was in a fit of knots the entire evening. Sherlock had decided for some reason that the call of the wine was far too tempting for him to resist and he was deliriously close to get being drunk. I didn't know if he was faking it or not, but I was certain that it was part of his plan. I kept trying to get him to stop drinking so much, but it was no use.<p>

Moriarty and my stepmother were heavily in cohorts the entire evening. The drunker Sherlock got, the closer Moriarty dared to venture. John was keeping a casual eye on me, as was Mary. I turned towards Sherlock just in time to catch his flailing hand in my face. Everyone in the room gasped as Sherlock smacked my face.

I grabbed onto my stinging cheek and stared at him in shock. Sherlock staggered back, he looked innocently stunned as he slurred. "Soo, sorry."

I took my glass of water and threw it in his face. "So am I!" everyone watched as I turned and stomped out of the room. But, not before stopping by the buffet table and grabbing a piece of ice that was cooling the champagne and pressing it to my cheek.

John stepped towards me. "Tammy."

I avoided his gaze." Not now John. I wish to be left alone for a moment."

"Yeah, but Tammy-

I glanced up to see that Sherlock was strolling, somewhat sluggishly towards me. I shook my head. "Be more concerned about him."

John turned towards Sherlock as I made a break for the door. The crowd obligingly moved aside. 'Taammy, wait." He slurred. "I wanna-

I ignored him and kept going, even after he fell into the punch bowl. I went straight towards the back door and went out into the garden. I was in full view from a window. I exhaled and reached into my purse for my mirror to see the extent of the damage done to my face.

I had lifted up the mirror when something stung my neck. I always had a low threshold for pain, so I let out one terrific shriek and I jumped up before I collapsed. I grabbed at my neck as my world swirled around me before turning into one of complete darkness.


	17. 17: Moriarty

Chapter seventeen: Moriarty

* * *

><p>A sharp slap to my cheek brought me from the sleeplike unconscious state I was in. I moaned and slurred. "Sherlock?"<p>

"No." the annoying, Irish voice of James Moriarty caused my eyes to fly wide open. I was tied to a metal hoop in the ceiling above me. My legs were tied to two heavy pieces of lumber, forcibly spread wide apart. I shook my head as I tugged against my bonds. Horror washed over me as I realized that my dress had been torn. I looked down and found that someone had taken a knife and slashed my dress from the waist down to my hem. I tried to pull my legs closed, but I couldn't. I looked up to see Moriarty, sitting in a chair a few feet away from me, smirking darkly at me. "Where is it?"

I stared at him in horror. "What?"

"The papers." He demanded as he stood up and walked over to me. "The papers in your bracelet."

I looked towards my wrist to find it gone. "Where's my mother's bracelet?" I demanded, hoping to turn the tables on him.

"Well, it wasn't even your mother's," he stated as he leaned over me. "so, no concern of yours. Now, where are," he repeated patiently. "the papers? I opened up the bracelet and the papers weren't inside. Now, where are they?"

I shook my head. "I don't have them."

He rolled his eyes. "Aren't ordinary people adorable?" I looked at him in confusion. A cold hand on my inner thigh caused me to jump. His brow arched in curiosity. "Still jumpy? Sherlock hasn't broken you in yet?"

I glowered at him. "What my husband chooses to do with me isn't any of your concern." Some strength, possibly from anger, surged in me. "Does everyone believe that he is totally incapable of feeling emotions?"

He chuckled. "Well, I'm glad the two of you two had been spending time making babies together. It'll be so much easier to burn the heart out of him when he collects your dead body." His words did make me shiver and feel sick. I had no idea what he did to me, however, as near as I could tell, only my dress had been torn and I hadn't been hurt in any way at all. "You know, it would have been rather fun, for both of us," he suddenly, his eyes studying me. "but you had to go and fall…for the side of the angels."

"Well," I sneered back. "the sides of the demons tend to get caught quite often and it's the side of the angel's that always are victorious."

"No one ever gets to me." He sneered.

"Sherlock will." I smirked at him, preparing to put on my greatest act. "You know why? Because you took his most beloved possession. His wife!"

"Who he doesn't love." He laughed. "God, are you really so pathetic that you'd attempt to force me to believe that he'd actually care for you?" His words did ring true and I looked away from him for a moment. A smack caused me to look back at Moriarty; he held a riding crop in his hand. "Did I tell you, that this is Sherlock's favorite weapon of choice?"

"Why'd you do this?" I demanded. "All of this for a stupid diamond?"

"Actually, the return of it would have set me for life, but I prefer the fun for thrill of the hunt." He chuckled. "You should have seen your mother. In spite of what your father says, she took that poison willingly. Thought the whole secret would die with her if she died."

"You murdered her!"

"She made her own choice. Thought the truth would die with her, but it never does." His eyes narrowed. "I suppose you were present for when your father died. We never found the street rat that supposedly tipped off Mycroft Holmes. Your stepmother was sure it was you who screamed."

"And she was right." I spat. "I heard everything! What does she have to do with this anyway?"

"We grew up in the streets together. The promise of a tremendous fortune was too much for her to pass up. she should be joining us later," he smirked. "I believe she expressed an interest in slitting your cheekbones to your ear."

"You're going to burn in Hell for everything that you did Moriarty!" I shouted. "And so will she!"

he drew back the crop and suddenly whacked me hard between my legs! The pain was unlike anything I'd ever experienced and I screamed. Moriarty laughed. "Well! You can scream! No wonder Sherlock keeps you around." I couldn't wipe my eyes as tears formed; I could only grip the ropes that held me suspended. "Sherlock took the papers, which tell me where the location of the Dubonnet diamond is. I want it! And you better tell me now, otherwise, I shall be forced to force their location from you in any way possible."

"You can't have it!" I shouted in his face. "I don't know where it is, Sherlock didn't tell me and I'm certain that he's returned it to the rightful owners by now! In addition, even if he had told me, I wouldn't tell you! So you've lost!"

"I'd say it's more like your loss!" he shouted in my face before removing his coat, dropping it to the floor. "You and Sherlock better have been making babies, for it'll be the only thing that'll make your violation more bearable." The blood drained out of my face and I bit my lip to keep from screaming. I couldn't lose my virginity to Moriarty before dying a painful death at his hands.

"He will be here!" my voice trembled with slight uncertainty. Sherlock had let me down before and I hoped this time he'd be here on time.

"yeah. I've been planning your death, for a while now." He studied me with a smirk. "Sherlock Holmes's wife. You're going to die in a special way." He sneered as he stepped towards me. "I've got a dog in the other room and that hasn't eaten for two days now." He stepped towards me, his eyes laughing. "I shall enjoy watching him tear your body to pieces, after you've been covered in a variety of greases." His eyes danced insanely. "And he's going to rip you to shreds after, I've had you."

"Sherlock!" I screamed in a panic as Moriarty stepped towards me. "Sherlock please!" It was then that the door splintered open. Moriarty spun around as Sherlock, Mycroft and a dozen other police officers entered the room. The look of shock on his face was priceless. Relief flooded me and my heart surged in my chest at the familiar sight of him.

Sherlock's eyes were blazing furious as he looked at Moriarty. Without even blinking, Sherlock shot Moriarty, in the shoulder and Moriarty stumbled backwards away from me! He probably would have shot Moriarty in a more lethal place than his shoulder, had Mycroft not jostled him.

"Mycroft!" he shouted.

Mycroft took the gun from Sherlock. "For God's sake, don't kill him in front of witnesses Sherlock." Sherlock strode toward Moriarty, grabbed a hold of his shirt and threw him against a wall. Sherlock drew his arm back to punch him, but Mycroft caught him. "Not now! Go see to your wife! You can kill him later."

Then, all the fury faded away into concern as he saw me. "Sherlock." I called him gently. "Do you mind getting me down from here?"

"No." He pulled out a knife from his pocket. "I want him dead Mycroft," Sherlock snapped as he walked towards me. "You will see to it or I will kill him."

"I'm fairly certain that can be arranged," Mycroft said dryly. "in a few hours though Sherlock."

Sherlock was silent as he cut the ropes securing my feet. "Did he hurt you?" He demanded as he straightened up, if I didn't know any better, I'd say he was actually worried. "Did he rape you?"

"No." Sherlock's eyes examined me; they traveled along the entire length of my body. "He hit…me with…a crop a few…times. But, I'm fine." The moment my hands were free, I threw my arms around his neck. I held onto to him tightly. "I knew you'd come."

Sherlock surprised me by wrapping his arms around my waist. "I've got you, you're alright." His tone was soft as he held me close to him, his hand smoothing my hair as I cried softly in his arms. His lips might have brushed my forehead, but I was too upset for that idea to register in my mind.

"Well, I'll be damned." Moriarty sneered as the police handcuffed him. "Sherlock is in love with you after all."

I didn't say anything and neither did Sherlock. we needed each other and for this moment, we allowed ourselves to take liberties. I ran my hands through his curls, closed my eyes and just breathed in his scent and taking in his strength.

"I'm here." He assured me quietly. "You're with me."

"Take me home," I begged him. "please."

He nodded. "Alright."

When he lifted me up into his arms, I frowned and looked at him. "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking you home." He stated. "Like you asked."

"But," I floundered for words. "I-I can walk."

"I don't want you walking. Don't argue with me, just close your eyes and we'll be home before you know it."

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry about the delay, I had a lot of work to do.<strong>

**Lady Gisbourne 15: He's gotten himself into a controlled situation. I thought it was a bit quick myself, then I glanced at 'I won't send roses' and their first kiss was in the 9th chapter and by chapter 13, they were involved together. But in this story, they still have a way to go, especially if Sherlock decides to behave himself.**


	18. 18: Tomorrow, not tonight

Chapter eighteen: Tomorrow, not tonight

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><p>I couldn't sleep.<p>

The entire evening had exhausted my body, but my mind was a restless piece of hopeless turmoil. Mrs. Holmes immediately had a bath drawn for me and had shouted for everyone to get whatever luxury she felt I needed and she insisted on John Watson examining me. I refused to confess about the bruises that had undoubtedly formed on my legs. I didn't refuse the blanket that was offered to me, but I refused to accept any of the mollycoddling.

I just sat there, in the midst of all this turmoil watching the world revolve around me. I sat there numbly as everyone pressed Sherlock for details about the evening. I didn't really listen much, but evidentially, Sherlock and John had forced my stepmother to reveal my whereabouts. However, her information was incorrect. A woman named Irene, had given them the correct information. Mycroft seemed to know her, but refused to depart any information about her.

As everyone argued, I stood up and walked over towards the piano. I could feel Sherlock's eyes on me as I sat down. Playing music for me was the only way for me to attempt to calm down. My favorite piece of music was Antonio Vivaldi's Violin Concerto no 6 in A Minor, Op 3, Rv 356, Largo. It was of course, made for a violin, but I always played it on the piano. Granted, it sounded slightly unusual, but I was too old now to learn to play the violin. No one seemed to notice me as I sat down and gazed at the ivories.

The urge to release the numb pain, hurt and despair inside me was too much to resist. I closed my eyes and began to play. I knew this piece from the heart. I could remember so many things that I'd forgotten. My parent's arguments, my mother's constant affairs and my father's tolerance of them. I wonder if at times that they stayed together for my sake. However, there were times that I could remember them being happy together. I scolded myself for even doubting their affections.

The sound of a violin caused my eyes to open. I turned and looked to see Sherlock making his way towards me, a violin tucked under his chin and he was playing. He nodded for me to continue and I joined him. This was the first time I'd ever seen him play a musical instrument and it would happen to be the instrument that I'd always desired to play. I looked back down at the keys as our instruments blended in perfect harmony. If he knew that I was far more upset than I let on, he didn't say anything to me.

But all too soon, the music came to an end. Sherlock lowered the violin and the bow from his neck. He studied me for a moment before turning back to the group. "I'm taking Tammy home." He carefully tucked the violin into the case, closing it carefully.

Mr. Holmes was the first man to object. "Sherlock, it's been a rough day, she should stay home and rest."

John nodded. "I agree. She should stay here."

I looked at Sherlock, mentally pleading with him to get me out of this house. I wanted to be back in our home. Well, it wasn't really 'our' home. It was the closest thing I had to a home, but it was also the one place where I could have some privacy.

Fortunately, he read my mind. He stepped towards me and picked me up. "I'll make sure she rests. I'm certain she'd prefer to rest among familiar things including her own bed." He turned and addressed me. "Am I correct?"

I nodded. "I'm fine."

Mycroft exhaled deeply. "Oh Sherlock."

He never said anything more, but his tone dripped with disappointment. Sherlock stiffened and walked out of the parlor. "Goodnight everyone."

* * *

><p>The journey home was silent. Sherlock didn't speak to me and I didn't speak to him. I had too much and nothing to say to him. Sherlock was in his 'mind palace' as he called it, so he wasn't concentrating on me. I closed my eyes and tried to relax in the carriage. I was exhausted, but I knew I could never sleep tonight.<p>

Sherlock silently and dutifully carried me from the carriage up the stairs. He set me down outside the door of our room before entering it. As per arrangement, he grabbed his nightclothes and then left to grant me the privacy of undressing and changing.

As the door shut, I silently began to undress myself. More tears burned my eyes, I wanted to cry, but I was also tired of crying. I had been crying for so many days for so many reasons, great or small. Yet, I should cry, I had gone through so much.

I looked at myself in the mirror and the look in my eyes immediately made me drop my gaze. I looked so tired, exhausted and depressed that I wasn't certain that I was looking at myself in the mirror. I hung my clothes over the chair and after pulling my nightdress over my shoulders, I sat down and began to brush my hair after removing the pins. I purposefully positioned myself away from the mirror so as not to gaze at myself.

The door opened and I looked up at Sherlock. I wasn't surprised that he hadn't knocked, but it was the expression on his face as he lingered in the doorway for a moment watching me. It was an unusual look, he was staring at me almost. But, I decided that he was simply making a deduction about me, so I resumed brushing my hair in silence as he closed the door.

I stood up, setting the brush down on the nightstand behind me. Sherlock approached me and I paused in place. Not once had he ever approached me in our bedroom. I held his gaze as he stopped a foot away from me. "Here." Sherlock handed me a semi-frozen cloth.

I frowned. "What's this for?" he didn't answer me, but he dropped his gaze down to my lower abdomen. I flushed as I realized that when he cut my bonds, he must have noticed where Moriarty had struck me. I was grateful he hadn't said anything. But why did he have to notice everything? I dipped my head. "Thank you."

He simply nodded before turning and walking towards his side of the bed. I shook my head as I crawled into bed. Once I was under the covers did Sherlock crawl into bed beside me. He closed his eyes for a moment, granting me a moment of privacy while I slid the cloth between my legs. I let out a hiss as the ice stung, but it was a relief, I'd been throbbing down there all evening and it was getting unbearable. I glanced over my shoulder to see Sherlock watching me out of the corner of his eye. It was awkward for us now. Maybe because I knew that any moment he'd say that we really shouldn't still be sharing the same bed together as we weren't going to remain a married couple for much longer.

He cleared his throat. "You did well tonight."

"Thank you."

Again, silence pervaded the room, until Sherlock spoke. "Mother mentioned that you had never seen Elise McKenna perform before." I nod as I carefully roll over to my back so I wasn't craning my neck to look at him. "She purchased us two tickets for us to go see her tomorrow night in 'Wisdom of the heart.' She's leaving tomorrow for an extended tour to America, so, it'll be her last performance."

"That is very generous of her. I shall look forward to it." I bit my lip and shifted deeper under the covers. I cleared my throat as I drew the covers up to my chin. "I didn't know you played the violin. You're good."

"It helps me think."

I smiled. "I know." He looks at me curiously. "Why else do you think I play the piano?"

He smirks at me for a moment before the smile fades away. "Go to sleep."

"I can't."

"Why?" I couldn't answer him on that one. I just turned over on my side so I couldn't look at him. After a few moments of silence, he asked me. "Would you like me to hold you?"

His kind offer took me by surprise. I peered over my shoulder at him curiously. His face showed no emotion. "Why?"

He groaned. "You, like all females in emotional times like this, for some reason always desire comfort."

"If it's so offensive and against your principles," I snap in irritation. "then why are you offering it?"

His reply is instant. "Because after what you've gone through, it's the least I can give you."

I'm quiet for a moment, then, I carefully slide the ice pack over to the side before I roll into his side. I can feel Sherlock's gaze on the top of my head as I lean my head against his chest. I exhale and murmur. "Thank you."

He doesn't say anything as he wraps an arm around my shoulder. By some strange magnetic connection, I wrap my hand around his waist, desperate to feel him closer to me. As his other hand locks around my waist, the final tears fall down my cheeks. I can feel him gently brushing my hair before murmuring. "It's all over. It's over now." I don't know what other things he murmured to me, but my body and mind accepted that I was safe and secure in his arms at that moment and I instantly fell asleep. Whatever happened tomorrow, would happen tomorrow, not tonight.

* * *

><p><strong>Hi everyone, I am so sorry about the delay. I developed an issue with my computer that locked me out of fanfiction and I've just now been able to get back on. I also realized that I got hit by porn spam again on my Robin Hood fics as did other friends of mine. Condoleezza Rice, is the name of the newest spammer. As always, block them to protect yourself. You can report them to fanfiction if you wish, but fanfiction told us to ignore the spam, so I sincerely doubt that they'll do anything. So, I shall be deleting my 2 Robin Hood fics and reposting them to get rid of the spam.<strong>


	19. 19: Matters of the heart

Chapter nineteen: Matters of the heart

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><p>When I awoke, I was still snuggled into Sherlock's side. I glanced up at him to see he was reading a book, though; it must have been difficult for him as he had a hand on my shoulder. I shifted slightly and he looked down at me. "Good morning." He actually offered me a smile and he actually looked very charming from this position.<p>

I covered a yawn behind my hand. "Good morning." He removed his arm from my shoulder and reached for the tray on his nightstand. He handed me my cup of coca as I straightened up. "Thank you. I didn't hear Mrs. Hudson come in."

'No." He stated calmly as he turned the page in his book. "She was actually silent for once."

I blew on my cocoa and took a sip of it. I glanced at him for a moment before saying. "I have a few questions about happened last night."

He closed his book instantly closing with a snap. "I thought you might have." At my curious look, he said. "Because you've always got this look in your eyes when you want to ask questions but aren't sure how to go about it."

"Pardon me if the drama prohibited me from asking these questions." I let out a quiet snort before asking. "How long….was I held by Moriarty?"

He seemed surprised that this was my first question. "No more than two hours. And for the record, I wasn't drunk."

"I knew it."

He frowned. "How did you know?"

"I've been struck before." I said as I took a sip out of my cocoa. "Yours was one of the softer ones I'd felt."

"Who hit you?" He asked a gentle demand in his tone of voice.

"It doesn't matter." I looked up at him to find him seriously studying me. I exhale and answer. "My father struck me once, but, it was my mother who'd smack me when I misbehaved as a child."

He rolled his eyes. "I can't imagine you misbehaving."

I laughed. "You'd be surprised. When I was younger, I wanted to be a pirate."

His brow arched. "Really?"

"Yes." I studied him. "What did you want to be?"

He bit his lip before admitting. "Pirate."

I chuckled. "Ain't the world a remarkable place?" I inhaled before saying. "You need to look out for someone else. Her name is Irene Adler."

He frowned. "She's the one who helped us find you. How would you know her full name? I don't recall mentioning it."

"My father told me to beware of her." I explained. "I thought she might have been working for Moriarty."

"Well, she was, in a way of sorts." He explained. "He was blackmailing her, she wanted out, so she turned him into us. Nothing extra ordinary about that."

I shrugged as I yawned again. "I guess not."

Mrs. Hudson banged on the door. Sherlock exhaled. "Come in!" He snapped in irritation. I swatted his shoulder gently. "What?"

"Be nice."

"Oh Sherlock," she said as she burst into the door. "there's a man, passed out in the library, who believes he killed a man when his car backfired."

Sherlock's brow arched with curiosity. "Fascinating." He got out of bed and turned to look down at me. "I'll try to solve this as quickly as possible."

I shook my head and waved him off. "No, don't worry about me." I shifted deeper into the covers and reached for his book. "You're a detective, a very busy man who helps people. My concerns should come last of all, especially after what you've done for me."

He frowned as he leaned forward until we were almost eye level with each other. "You said something similar to me when we hadn't even been married for three minutes." He said it, the dreadful 'm' word. "Did you mean it then?"

I nodded honestly. "I meant it then and I meant it now. Go on."

"Alright." He leaned forward slightly, as if he were going to kiss me on the forehead. But that didn't happen. He straightened up and walked out of the room. "I'll be back in time to take you to the theatre. I promise."

I nodded as I watched him depart. He hadn't kissed me, but I really wished he had. It was hard for me, to suddenly begin craving something that I wanted.

* * *

><p>A hand on my shoulder caused me to jump. I whirled around and found Sherlock standing there, dressed to impress in his opera suit. He chuckled. "Still skittish I see."<p>

"You walk like a cat." I exhaled deeply. "You startled me."

"I noticed."

I glowered at him. "I also had four men try to," his brow arched slightly in irritation. "well, they tried."

"And?" He asked. "What happened?"

"I informed them that I would set you on their trail and they all made a hasty departure into the theatre."

He chuckled. "Why am I not surprised? If you see them in the theatre, point them out to me."

"Never!" I proclaimed. "You'd torment them so badly."

"I'd do nothing of the sort." He took my elbow and guided me towards the door. "Shall we?"

"Yes." I tried not to notice how all eyes were following us and people were whispering behind their hands about us. "How did the case fair?"

"Oh, boring," I smiled at the tone in his voice. "the man hadn't killed anybody. He'd distracted the man who stupidly turned away from his boomerang."

"The boomerang hit him in the head," I supplied. "and he died."

"Yes. Rather stupid, he'd only just returned from abroad. Then, a woman named Helen Stoner appeared, hysterically claiming that she was going to die before her wedding."

"And?"

"Her stepfather was going to murder her." I gasped in horror. "He actually murdered her older sister."

"Why?"

"Because, he wanted their fortune." Sherlock took my wrap, his fingers brushing my neck as he removed it from my shoulders. I trembled and shivered slightly under his touch. "You changed perfumes didn't you?" I hesitated in answering him. "You usually wear something like jasmine. Am I right?" I could only nod. "But tonight, it's different."

I licked my lips and blurted. "Roses." I cleared my throat. "It's a new rose perfume."

"It suits you."

My blood runs cold and my stomach tightly clenches at Sherlock's voice. I didn't know what to do or say. I couldn't look at him and I was glad that he couldn't see that the expression on my flushing face. I found my voice. "Thank you. We should go in now."

"Yes." Sherlock took a hold of my arm, his thumb brushing the exposed skin above my elbow, causing my skin to shiver. He frowned at a man ahead of us. "I wonder what happened to that man's clothes. They're a decade old."

I chuckle and shake my head. "Maybe they got lost."

"Even if they did, why would someone keep a suit that's a decade old?" He questioned. "It doesn't make any sense."

"Sherlock, behave," I asked as we sat down in our seats, incidentally a few seats away from the man who's appearance Sherlock was criticizing. "please? A few hours without murder or speculation or anything of that sort?" Sherlock chuckled as he looked at me as I fidgeted in my seat."What?" I asked.

"You. You're nervous." I rolled my eyes and looked away from him as he leaned forward and whispered in my ear. "Relax. The show will start soon."

"Sorry." I said as I gripped my fan. "I've heard how marvelous she was and, I've never been in a theatre as grand as this before."

He bobbed his head. "True. Maybe," dear God, was he being hesitant? "you'd like to… attend some concerts." My heart paused in my chest at those words. "I hear that Rachmaninoff is bound to come this way soon. If you're interested."

The house lights dimmed at that moment and the orchestra started playing. I leaned towards him and murmured. "I'd love to."

He smiled at me and turned towards the stage as the curtain was rung up. There was a maid there, obviously reading something of a scandalous nature, as revealed by her eyes. Then, the door to the 'room' opened and Elise McKenna entered the room. I applauded along with the audience as she entered the stage

The man beside me, jolted upright in his seat for a moment before joining the other's in applause. I kept my applause brief, knowing it made it difficult for the actors to resume their parts of the character while waiting for the applause to die.

"Good evening miss!" the maid said loudly in rough accent.

"Not good at all." Elise said tightly. "Particularly bad." She fluttered her fan in irritation before removing her evening wrap. "I'll not go downstairs again."

"Oh, what is it miss?" the maid questioned in false sympathy.

Elise exhales as she moved towards her nightstand. "I've just been dining with the man my father is determined that I wed."

"Oh," the maid explained with so much enthusiasm that one would wish that she were in Elise's shoes. "banker Harwell!"

"Yes, banker Harwell, yes." Elise said drolly before exclaiming in irritation. 'All 67 years, 5 ft. 4 of height and several hundred pounds of him!" she throws her fan down at the nightstand before situating herself at the table.

Sherlock chuckled at Elise's antics as I attempted to muffle my laughter behind my hand. I always had a loud laugh and I couldn't get it under control. "He does have money though miss."

"And never lets a soul forget it." She reminds her. "I'm amazed he has the least desire to marry, he's so happily wedded to his gold."

"Well, perhaps it won't be all that bad miss." The maid was a hopeless friend, if she were a friend to the character. "There must be something you like about him."

"Yes!" She said instantly. "His absence." The audience laughs. I, however cannot, for it seems to remind me of my reactions to being told that I would marry Sherlock Holmes before getting a chance to refuse. But now, things had desperately changed in me, or so I'd thought. "Elise's face goes still and there's a sadly whimsical expression about her face. "The man of my dreams has almost faded now."

Her tone is so soft and gentle that she catches everyone's attention, their hearts in particular. I glanced at the actress playing the maid and saw the surprise on her face as well. She however quickly regained her composure to ask loudly. "And what man is that miss?"

"The one I have created in my mind." Elise murmured softly as she stands up and begins to walk slowly around to the front of the desk. "The sort of man…each woman dreams of in the… deepest, most secret reaches of her heart." She pauses near center stage, peering deeply into the audience as if looking for someone. "I can almost see him now before me." Her gaze, is so penetrating that I almost feel as if she were looking into our row. "What would I say to him…if he were really here?" I follow Elise's gaze and my eyes fall towards the tall, handsome, muscular young man sitting beside me. By the way his bright blue eyes are transfixed up on her, I have no doubt that Elise is speaking to him.

I feel as if I'm invading a private moment that I cannot get out of. All of us, the entire audience are being witness to a declaration. "Forgive me." I've never known this feeling. I've lived without it all my life." My hand dropped onto the arm of my chair, colliding with Sherlock's arm. "Is it any wonder then I failed to recognize you?" As I listened to her words, my heart grew and swelled in my chest. How could she know what I wanted to say, but couldn't find the words to say? "You brought it to me for the first time." My heart began pounding faster as she said what I so desperately wanted to say to Sherlock, but couldn't. "Is there any way…I can tell you how my life has changed? Any way at all to let you know what sweetness you have given me? There is so much to say…I cannot find the words. Except for these…. I love you."

I closed my eyes as tears ran down my cheeks. Elise McKenna, she was a brilliant actress. Her words chilled and broke my heart, especially as I sat there next to my husband. The man that I'd fallen in love with to know that he'd never love me. "And such would I same to him," Elise's voice broke with happy tears as she turned back towards her desk. "if he were really here."

The applause broke me back to the harsh reality of my situation. I couldn't stand it anymore. I jumped up and ran from the theatre without even looking back. I ran into the lobby, out the front door, but I turned sharply and headed straight towards the back entrance.

"Tammy?" Sherlock shouted. I just ran my hair flying free from the pins. I sobbed into my hands, muffling them somewhat, but not enough. I was sure my cries could still be heard in the night. "Tammy?" I ran and stumbled over a box. Before I fell to the ground, I felt Sherlock grab me around the waist, keeping me from falling. He spun me around, his face bore a mask of confusion. "Tammy? What are you doing out here? You're missing…. the play." His eyes narrowed. "You're crying."

"Obviously!" I snapped at him.

He frowned. "Why?"

I tried to pull free from him. "Just go away."

"Why?" he repeated.

"Because I demanded it of you!" I was now feeling anger with my hurt. "Please! Just go!"

"Do you always do this?" He questioned. "Do you always run out of the theatre crying at the end of the first scene?"

"No!" I dropped my gaze and rubbed my arms.

"You didn't like it?"

I exhaled and looked at the ground. "It was beautiful." His grip relaxed on my shoulders as I added. "And I hated it."

Sherlock frowned. "How can you hate something that is beautiful?" He immediately thought better of that question and shook his head. "Never mind, I know it's possible."

Somehow, I knew that he was referring to me. I was beautiful and he hated me. I bit my lip and added in a quiet voice, hating myself. "I can't believe….I'd forgotten him."

Sherlock's grip tightened. "You'd forgotten who?"

"Him." His grip on my shoulders was firm again as I whispered out. "The man of….my dreams."

He looked at me quietly before speaking softly. "You have me."

I trembled as I spoke the words that my head knew but my heart refused to accept. "Yes, for the moment, but, God only knows how long those moments are going to be."

For a moment, all I could hear were the sounds of crickets and the sound of people. After a few long, uncomfortable moments of silence, Sherlock spoke. "I've arranged for our marriage annulment to take place tomorrow at 10:30."

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><p><strong>Lady Gisbroune 15: Feel free to rant, you've a right to do so. It was disgusting and unbearable. I've talked to a few popular POTO writer's that I am friends with and they are stoking the fires. One of them, has about 200 followers, so she will get the word around about this. I've had several people PM asking how they can help fight these spammers and get permission to remove reviews that we deem offensive. I'm going to start bringing attention to the Sherlock fandom. The material that all 35 writers were assaulted with was MA, and forbidden on here, yet they won't remove it! As soon as you repost your story, I will repost every single review I ever made for your story. You worked hard and you deserved the reviews.<strong>

** But back to business, yes, things were going great with these two, until I decided to ruin everyone's night. Or rather Sherlock did, he has a mind of his own. I hope everyone appreciated my nod to 'Somewhere in time.' While I didn't want to do a crossover, it was obvious that I had to make a reference to the movie since I used Jane Seymour to perfect my image. It's my favorite movie with her and I just had to put my favorite scene in this fic.**


	20. 20: Inevitable

Chapter twenty: Inevitable

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><p>His tone was unemotional and I exhaled deeply as bile rose up in my throat. Somehow, I was able to swallow it and bear it. Granted, I would have preferred to fall to the ground crying, but I wasn't going to do that. Sherlock and I had been forced to marry, while I had affections for him, I wasn't going to hold myself to him when he didn't have any feelings for me.<p>

Who was I fooling? He had no feelings for me. He'd stated it multiple times. Maybe he'd known that I'd fall in love with him and he'd given me dozens of subtle hints as warnings to me. To guard my heart and my head. Yes, that made sense.

I couldn't find the words at first, but when I did find them, I said the words I didn't want to say. "I'd been expecting you to tell me that for some time."

"The case is over." He stated, as I pulled free from his grip. "No need to stay married, is there?"

I turned and headed back to the theatre. "Agreed. Now, let's finish the evening out and try to bear each other's company."

"You're not upset?" he sounded very surprised to my reaction.

"Of course I'm not upset!" I lied. "Why would I be upset?"

Sherlock was silent before saying. "No reason."

The play was comical, but we didn't stay long afterwards. When Elise's lover had gotten a note from someone requesting to meet him outside, Sherlock, in his suspiciousness unable to be sated, followed them. Both men returned later in the theatre looking very disheveled. Sherlock looked at the man with a rather nervous air, which was unusual. Nobody made Sherlock Holmes nervous.

Sherlock revealed to me in the carriage that the man was going to be abducted by Elise's manager and he'd prevented it. The man, Richard Collier, was an unusual man. He deduced multiple things about Sherlock and had laughed about what an honor it was for him to have been rescued by Sherlock Holmes. The ride home, once Sherlock had explained his minor case, had once again dissolved into silence. My heart ached. I longed for his voice and longed for his arms, but I daren't speak these thoughts.

We went upstairs to our room. I shook my head and corrected myself. _His _room. I went and collected my items, preparing to relocate myself to the guest room when Sherlock frowned at me. "What are you doing?"

I looked at him in surprise. "I'm relocating to the guest room."

He shook his head. "That's not necessary."

"From where I'm standing, it is." I stated in a far calmer tone that I had felt myself to be capable of. "We shouldn't have slept together last night and considering what is about to take place tomorrow morning, we shouldn't be in the same room tonight."

Sherlock exhaled, he looked as if he wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words. "I mean…I've got some work to do." Why was I not surprised? "I'm going to be working in my lab for a while. You can stay here and I'll sleep in the guest room."

I nodded my head in thanks. "I appreciate it."

Sherlock nodded and turned to stalk out of the room. He closed the door abruptly behind him. I sat down at the table and began removing my hairpins. Only once I heard him descend the steps, did I grab my pillow from the bed and begin to cry into it.

* * *

><p><em>The following morning,<em>

* * *

><p>Sherlock and I hadn't spoken five words to each other as we drove towards the shabby little office. Well, it was a nice building, but it looked shabby to me. I hadn't eaten breakfast and I could tell from Sherlock's expression, he hadn't eaten anything either. My heart pounded in my chest, I wanted to say something, but I couldn't. I had to have some pride left. Sherlock was a scornful man at times and I couldn't say to him that I loved him, especially when he'd stated so many times that he was incapable of emotions.<p>

We sat in a small, still office while Sherlock talked to his solicitor, Mr. Moran. I was glad he was a in a talkative mood, he did all the explaining while I simply answered yes or no. then, Mr. Moran slid the papers of my annulment towards me. My hands trembled violently as I looked at the papers. My vision began to blur as tears filled my eyes. My throat ached with tears that desperately wanted to flow over.

"Ma'am," Mr. Moran said firmly. "you need to sign that paper."

I inhaled and croaked out as I stood up. "I'm sorry." I placed the paper down at the table and took the pen that Moran handed me.

It was then that Sherlock's hand closed over mine. "Do you want to sign?" His tone so gentle that my breaking heart shattered into a million pieces. "And if so, tell me why?"

"You," I gasped out. "don't love me." The words were like a knife to my heart. Tears began to spill down the cheeks as I almost admitted my feelings. "And I-I…. I want to…be loved."

Sherlock suddenly pulled me against his chest, his fingers winding themselves in my hair. I look up at him, stunned by the sudden, dark passionate look in his eyes. "Then," he asked me, his voice deep and hoarse. "what do you call this?"

I never got to answer him. I suddenly felt Sherlock's lips upon mine and I almost crumbled to the ground then and there. This was the first time Sherlock had actually kissed me of his own free will. I inhaled deeply as my legs buckled. Sherlock locked his hands around my waist, his hands gripping onto my hips, stabilizing me before running his hands up to my shoulders. I'd locked my arms about his neck, though now, the grip was significantly loosened as his mouth continued to explore mine.

Each kiss grew more and more frantic, as if we were trying to replace all those kisses we'd denied ourselves since the day we married. My gasps began to turn into little whimpers then cries as I surrendered to this feeling. Sherlock kept pulling me closer, as if he could make our bodies become one if he willed it.

Moran's voice caused us to slowly come back to the ground. "Mr. Holmes! This is most unethical and completely inappropriate!"

After a moment, he broke the kiss and pulled away from me. His chest was heaving rapidly and his hair hung about his face. He let out a few confused sounding stutters before pulling me up into his arms, as if I were once again a bride. "I'm taking you home." Those four words caused my heart to stop in my chest. "Do you want me?" I let out a strangled gasp of surprise as I stared at Sherlock in amazement. "Because I want you." I could only nod anxiously. Sherlock's face broke into a smile and he kissed me again.

"Mr. Holmes!" Moran shouted. "What about the papers?"

"Oh for God's sake, if you haven't figured it out by now, burn them you idiot!" Sherlock snapped. "Or, save it for a couple who don't want to be together. We do!"

Want. Mrs. Holmes was right; it was a wonderful word, to be wanted. All eyes watched us as Sherlock practically ran out of the office with me in his arms. Mr. Moran was still shouting at us about his fee and lots of other useless nonsense. Our carriage was still waiting outside for us and Sherlock shouted at the driver to get us home immediately.

My blood pounded in my veins as Sherlock drew the blinds, allowing us some privacy. I knew what was coming the moment we got home and my entire being trembled with anticipation. The moment the final curtain was drawn, Sherlock grabbed me around my waist and tugged me into his lap. I let out a groan as Sherlock pulled my hatpin from my head, throwing it and my hat aside.

"How long?" He demanded. "How long, have you been wanting me?"

I thought I'd die if I admitted it; the words left my lips slowly. "Years."

"The exact moment!" He demanded. His tone, though harsh, was actually turning me on. "What day? What moment?"

I trembled as I admitted. "The night…you apologized to me, after…Moriarty kissed me."

"Don't say his name!" He snapped angrily before kissing me. I wasn't sure where to put my hands, so I grabbed onto his shoulders. His hands gripped my skirts, pulling them up to my knees so I could sink lower onto his lap without my skirts restricting me. I shuddered and pulled away from him slightly at the contact between us. "Why," he demanded through his teeth. "didn't you tell me?"

"Me? You're the man!" I glowered at him. "Why didn't you tell _me_?"

"I never noticed you having any issues talking!"

I threw my hands in the air. "I can't believe we're going to argue about this at a time like this, but as it's what we do best, I'm going to argue with you." I almost fell backwards as the carriage went over a pothole, but Sherlock's firm grip kept me upright. "I'm not the one with commitment issues! You've stated to me dozens of times how emotions, wives, family and children were not in your line of work!"

"I would have told you!" He gripped me tightly from behind my knees and I cried out. "You gave me no signs of encouragement. Why?"

"I was scared." I let out a groan. "If you'd asked me to tell you how I felt, I would have told you everything immediately."

"I know you were scared and I didn't want to frighten you off." His eyes held my gaze. "I wouldn't hurt you."

I bit my lip. "I know that and I trust you." I inhaled deeply before confessing. "The way….you make me feel…scares me."

He exhaled and leaned forward to kiss me again. "Believe me, I know." I trembled as he leaned forward and began kissing me. I shuddered violently as his lips traveled down to my neck. "God, you provoked that attack when you came down in the red and black dress." He demanded as he suddenly flipped me onto my back, pressing himself on top of me as he gripped my wrists. "Do you have _any _idea what you did to me that night?" I could only shake my head. I was frightened, but it was a delicious, passionate fright. I knew he'd never hurt me. He'd kept me safe, for himself and I was going to be his. "And you were also right. No, I don't approve of emotions, love, family, having a wife or children."

I stared up at him in amazement. "Then why are we-

"Because, I only want those things with you, no one else." The moment his lips descended on mine…the carriage stopped. I moaned as he pulled away from me. He exhaled and helped me right my clothes before stepping out of the carriage. He turned and held out his hand to me. "Come." I reached for his hand, his eyes boring into mine as I took it. his grip was firm as he helped me down out of the carriage. He made sure I stepped close to him so he could whisper. "There's no more avoiding the inevitable between us."

* * *

><p><strong>Lady Gisbourne 15: So did I originally think it would go differently, but if they had, then we wouldn't have had this chapter. I think things took off rather well though. Now, everyone's on pins and needles for the next chapter.<strong>


	21. 21: To be wanted

Chapter twenty-one: To be wanted

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><p>I flushed and almost stumbled as he released my hand to give instructions to the driver and collect my hat. I bit my lip and nervously tried tucking my hair back into some semblance of order. Mrs. Hudson opened the front door and she stared at me in surprise. "Oh, Tammy, I wasn't expecting you to be back here. The case is over, isn't it? I packed up your bags like you asked me to do."<p>

I felt embarrassed now. How was I going to explain why my bags would need to be unpacked again? "Oh. Sherlock," my mind scrambled for a reason. "wanted to show me something." Hands on my waist caused me to shriek and I spun around as Sherlock lifted me up from the ground. "Oh!"

He stepped towards the house. "Good day Mrs. Hudson. You can go home now."

Her eyes widened in surprise. "But," she stammered. "Sherlock. You two can't be alone together now that-

Sherlock opened the door and stepped inside the house. "Good day Mrs. Hudson."

"I'm going to tell your mother." She threatened him.

"Do!" he snapped. "She'll be ever so pleased."

I couldn't think of any words to say at his blatantly obvious wording. Mrs. Hudson stared at us in amazement as Sherlock closed the door and locked it. my hat fell from his hands and Sherlock moved quickly up the stairs, my heart pounded with each step that he took. I reached for the knob on our bedroom door, opening it as he moved inside. My heart began pounding as he gently set me down on the ground.

I trembled at the look in his eyes. He held onto my shoulders for a moment, fighting for control. He exhaled and stepped around behind me. my eyes followed him as his hands went for the buttons on the back of my dress. I inhaled deeply, forcing my pounding body to calm down as Sherlock undid the back of my dress. It was only when he eased my dress around my shoulders that I realized that I'd gone out this morning dressed only in my slip, drawers and corset, meaning I'd be virtually naked before him as soon as he helped me completely out of my dress. my face flooded as he released me and began to unbutton his shirt.

Slowly, I slid the dress down around my hips. I could feel Sherlock's eyes on me as I carefully stepped out of the dress. When I straightened up, the look in his eyes caused my palms to immediately begin sweating and my stomach to swirl violently. I held my dress firmly in my hands and turned to hang it over the nearest chair.

A sound from behind caused me to jump as Sherlock grabbed me and whirled me around. The dress flew from my hands and my hands landed upon his shoulders. I trembled as Sherlock paused instantly in place. I could feel the want pulsating through him as it pulsed through me. for some reason, in the back of my mind, I could hear my stepmother's cruel word spoken to me on my wedding day resonating in my head.

I tensed slightly and my gaze avoided Sherlock's. he reached up and gently stroked my cheek with those long fingers of his. He trailed them gently up my cheekbones, to twine his fingers in my hair. I shivered and gulped as he studied me carefully. I wanted him and he wanted me as much.

"I'm moving too fast." He inhaled. "I'm sorry."

I responded by timidly leaning forward and kissing him. I shouldn't have. It set off a chain reaction of kisses. Sherlock lifted me up off the ground, pressing me against his exposed chest. I whimpered as I grabbed onto his shoulders as his hands tightly gripped my waist. Slowly, my feet made their way back to the ground and Sherlock after several more kisses, regained his control and released me.

His eyes went to my corset stays. This particular corset tied in the front, I'd purchased it so I wouldn't need help on certain nights as I wasn't sure when Mrs. Hudson would be available to help cinch me in. Sherlock shook his head slightly as he reached into his pant pocket and pulled out his pocketknife. I jumped slightly as he placed the blade of the knife under the ties of my corset stays. With one swift move, the ties were severed by the knife and I gasped as the knife fell from his long fingers.

Sherlock's eyes shot heat that burned through to my soul as he gripped the corset in both hands, the knife falling from his fingers. "Never," he breathed out. "wear this again, in my presence." He pulled it from my body and I instinctively covered myself from his gaze. My slip left little to the imagination and it was morning, the curtains' weren't even drawn. His hands covered mine as he stared me down. "And never," he moved my hands away from my chest slowly. "hide yourself from me." He gripped my wrists loosely in his hands. "Understand?" All I could do was nod. He stood there, his eyes slowly taking in what he could see of me, the look in his eyes was almost too much for my trembling legs. He stepped away from me and went towards the main door of the suite. "Get into the bed." I hear he was forcing himself to be considerate for me, but the desire was there. "I'll close the curtains."

"Ok." My voice shook in my chest as I picked up my dress and ruined corset to deposit them on the chair. I smoothed my shift down around my fluttering stomach. I timidly sat down on the edge of my bed and began to remove my shoes. As I undid my final shoe, I looked up as Sherlock entered our bedroom; he closed the door, but didn't lock it. I trembled, watching him as he closed the curtains before he walked over to me, pulling the belt from his pants and depositing it on the floor. The light still streamed in behind the light curtains as he knelt beside me. he'd already removed his socks and shoes, I noted that when he reached for my stocking foot. He studied me carefully before rolling up my shift above my knees. I could tell by the way his fingers moved that he was making notes as to how I reacted to his touch.

He curled his fingers around the elastic, pressing a kiss to my knee, causing me to grab onto the edge of the bed as he pulled my stocking off. I clenched my legs together as he pulled the final stocking. He glanced up at me as he brought his hands under my knees and lifted me up onto the bed. I looked up at him as he removed his shirt and pants before getting into the bed with me.

I let out a moan as he perched onto the edge of the bed, studying me with a critical eye, placing as he slowly tugging the material up to my waist. His voice lowered to that reverberating pitch, causing my bones to shake. "I need to know what level of pleasure you're comfortable with. I don't wish to make our… belated wedding night awkward or have moments that you don't wish to remember."

He had drawn the material up to my knees and was now touching my silken drawers. His touch, as always, was electrifying to me. I stammered out. "I-I am fine with…whatever you do. I trust you."

His hand went to the waistline of my drawers and he drew them down my legs. I let out a strangled cry as he slid his hand down my exposed skin. "Your reactions…speak volumes." He then set my drawers on the ground, his eyes looking over my exposed body. He moved his hand between my legs and I jumped when he slipped a finger inside me, I instinctively clenched around him with a cry. Sherlock groaned loudly as he looked at me, his breathing quickening. "Dear God." The look in his eyes caused my chest to begin breathing rapidly. His voice was enough to almost undo me. "So wet and I've hardly touched you."

"Too much!" I cried out as my body began to shake under his touch. He smiled slightly as he withdrew his hand from me. he slowly moved his body so that he was on top of me. I smiled, a little awkwardly as he leaned forward and began kissing me. I shuddered violently as his lips traveled down to my neck.

"Touch me." He requested as he continued kissing me. I felt awkward as I reached up and touched his face gently. "Good."

"What," I asked in embracement. "what do…I do?"

Sherlock stopped kissing me and looked down at me. I was relieved to see that there was no judgment in his eyes. His voice was kind as he said. "Whatever you want."

I shook my head. "I-I don't know-

He silenced me with a kiss. "Trust me, whatever you do will please me." Slowly, I parted my legs and brought them up around his waist. His brow arched silently as he asked in a tight voice. "Are you determined….to make me lose control?"

I bit my lip. "Not intentionally."

"Then stop biting your lip! It drives me mad!" My heart jumped as he covered my mouth with his. Whimpers and moans began streaming out of my mouth as he worked his mouth against mine. I wrapped my legs tighter around his waist, my fingernails digging into his back. I didn't know I could cause such emotions to erupt from him, so soon and suddenly. I should have been frightened, but this was Sherlock, the man I'd fought with for weeks and had fallen in love with in spite of all the odds. We were forced to marry and yet, it seemed that we were destined to be together. We knew each other far better than it seemed possible.

Sherlock grabbed my slip and pulled it over my head, leaving me completely exposed to his gaze. I cried out from the look in his eyes as he studied me before pulling me completely against him. It was then that our bodies touched together for the first time. I let out a moan as I gripped his forearms. I could feel his desire through the material and it set me on fire.

"Sherlock. Please!" I was tired of this constant teasing by him. I wanted him; I needed him inside me before my entire lower body burst from pure want. He ran his hands over my breasts, cupping them before placing a kiss to them. I couldn't stand it anymore and I pleaded. "I need you!"

"It's too soon." He shook his head. "It will hurt you-

"I don't care!" The utter want in my voice shocked him for a moment. I wasn't going to hide things from him anymore. My voice rang with passion as I declared. "I need you."

Sherlock exhaled and nodded. "Alright." He gently eased me on my back. He kissed me before removing his last remaining clothes and situating himself between my legs. I let out a small cry as I gripped his forearms tightly as Sherlock entered me, burying himself completely inside me with one thrust. It hurt as I expected it to, but it strangely felt wonderful, for me the pain meant that I truly had a husband and he actually cared for me. "Oh God." Sherlock's voice came out as a stifled groan. I opened my eyes to look up at him as he lowered his head to cover my mouth with his. "Why?" He asked as he kissed me again. "Why did I wait so long?"

I couldn't answer him. Not when my mind was asking itself the same question. I shifted my hips forward, asking him to continue and he did. He was gentle at first, carefully gauging my reactions, carefully looking for pain. However, once the pain had dissipated, I wanted more; I had wanted this for so long.

When I came, I came hard screaming his name in pure desire as Sherlock let out a roar of conquest. Society be damned! We were in our house, alone and we could be as loud as we wanted, free to express how we truly felt about each other and revel in the sensations that we felt.

Now, we were truly husband and wife. I lay there, panting from exhausted pleasure as Sherlock carefully exited me, but he didn't go far. He pulled me into his arms, holding me tight against his bare body while his chin rested on my shoulder. His breathing was deep and even, his fingers were trembling slightly from the moment we'd just experienced. When he kissed me on my brow, it was then that the words that I'd been trying to hold back for so long slipped out of my mouth. "I love you."

The moment they did, my heart stopped. I looked at Sherlock, trying to gauge his reaction. He tilted his head to the side, looked down at me and spoke. "I love you too." I couldn't stop tears from leaking silently down my cheeks he pulled me towards his chest, pressing a kiss on my forehead. "God help me, I love you too."

I wrapped my arms tightly around his waist. I didn't want to let him go and to my relief, he didn't let me go.

* * *

><p><strong>Lady Gisbourne 15: Ahh, sorry about the delay, I had to work. I've got job writing a script for an amateur Christmas show. I'm not getting paid or anything, but name will be in the program. I hope the passion was enough for you all.<strong>


	22. 22: Yesterdays, today and now

Chapter twenty-two: Yesterdays, today and now

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><p>I stretched and opened my eyes to find myself wrapped in Sherlock's arms. He smiled down at me and brushed a long strand of my hair back. "Good morning."<p>

I smiled and leaned into his touch. "Morning."

"Did you sleep well?"

"Very." I shifted even closer to him. "I trust you slept well as well?"

He nodded as he ran his hand down my neck, to my chest and then down to my stomach. "We appear to have slept for thirty minutes." My breathing hitched as he looked at me. "How do you feel?"

I smiled before admitting. "Loved." I knew he was asking subtly if I felt up for another round. Sherlock leaned forward and nuzzled my neck. "I feel loved."

He mumbled something ineligible before rolling me onto my back. I moaned and bucked my body against his. I felt his lips curve into a smile as he murmured into my ear. "God," his lips moved to my throat. "you're a passionate woman. Aren't you?"

I brought my arms up around his neck. "Only with you." he pulled back to look down at me as I brushed his cheekbone. "And I'm all yours."

"Believe me," he said as he leaned forward to kiss me again. "I'm aware of that."

I moaned as his lips touched mine. I didn't think it were possible for me to fall more in love with this man per touch, but I was, I was falling more and more in love with him with each touch. Our kisses grew more passionate and I wrapped my legs around Sherlock's waist as he began kissing my breasts. I moaned and stretched my arms against the head of the bed as Sherlock thrust deeply into me. It was slightly uncomfortable, but only for a moment. Both of us were so in tune with each other that we didn't realize that our bedroom door was opening.

However, it was Sherlock's ears that detached the sound and he instantly grabbed the blanket and rolled, wrapping me up in it. "Mycroft!" He shouted in fury.

I looked up over the covers to see Mycroft entering the room. Heat flooded my face, but I was grateful that Sherlock had managed to cover me up from my thigh up to my shoulders. The look on Mycroft's face was priceless. "Oh, for God's sake!" Mycroft groaned as he backed out of the room covering his eyes. "Sherlock!"

"Get out of here Mycroft!" He snapped. "Don't you knock!?"

"I did!" He groaned in disgust. "I'll never be the same again."

"Thank God for that! What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you. Mother is furious with you."

"What else is new?" Sherlock rolled his eyes. "Tell my parents we'll be down directly!"

I somehow got past my embarrassment to shout after him. "And don't tell them what we… I want to tell your mother!"

"She's your mother now too," Sherlock remind me in a kinder voice before shouting at Mycroft. "Is that understood?"

"Yes," Mycroft's voice was much calmer now. "brother mine."

I laughed uneasily as I looked down at my perturbed husband. "Moron." He mumbled before flipping me back onto my back. "Shall we continue what we started before heading down?"

I shook my head. "Sherlock! We can't!" He leaned forward to kiss me. "Your parents are down-

However, when Sherlock kissed me with such a passion that I knew that I couldn't deny him. I don't think I could deny him ever.

* * *

><p><em>10-15 minutes later,<em>

* * *

><p>I shook my head as I tied Sherlock's crimson robe around my waist. "I'm not sure about this."<p>

"Come on." He said taking my hand and leading me towards the door. "We're simply telling them," he suddenly gripped me about my waist and lifted me up off the floor. "that we decided to stay married and then we're heading back up here for the rest of the day."

"Sherlock!" he set me down on the ground. "You can't say things like that!"

"Why not?"

I stared at him. "Because…it's not proper!"

"Oh, you mean it's not proper for a husband to say to his wife that he desires her in their bed so he can ravish her?" His tone, though a question was that deduction tone and he was making me blush all over. His hand parted the robe and gripped me around my bare hips, causing me to gasp as he pinned me against the wall. "Is that…what you mean? If so…may I remind you that it is the wife's fault for causing her husband to desire her so." My face grew more flushed at the tone in his voice. "If her body is so delectable, then she must be prepared to deal with the desire her husband wishes to drown her in."

I moaned and pulled away from him. "Sherlock, later, please!" I begged as I opened the door and hurried down the hall. At the mischievous look in his eyes, I bolted for the stairs. Sherlock let out a laugh and I let out a shriek. "Sherlock!" I made it to the foot of the stairs before Sherlock grabbed me around the waist and pulled me back against him. "Let me go!"

"William Sherlock Scott Holmes!" His mother snapped out in fury, causing both of us to look towards her. "Get your hands off her now!"

Sherlock's reply was instant. "No."

"Sherlock!"

"You can't tell me that anymore." Sherlock turned me so my back was against his chest and he held up my left hand, revealing my wedding ring. He smirked at her. "It's official now."

She blinked then shouted. "You what?!"

I laughed uneasily. "He asked me to stay with him and I said yes."

"This is for real?" She demanded as Mycroft and Mr. Holmes came out of the parlor behind her. "You two are going to have children and all?"

"Definitely." Mycroft said slyly. "Trust me, I estimate that Tammy will be expecting within two months from now."

"What the matter Mycroft?" Sherlock demanded as he sat down on the steps and pulled me into his lap. I chuckled in amazement as Sherlock pulled me against his chest. I shook my head as he lay back on the stairs, propping me between his legs. "Afraid that you're going to be an old maid?"

A giggle sneaked out of my mouth as Sherlock wrapped his hands around my waist. "God," I groaned as he ran his hands up and down my stomach. "you're bloody pleased with yourself aren't you?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so."

"You better be!" His mother threatened, shaking her finger at him. "Sherlock Holmes, you better swear to me that you married her because you love her."

I spoke up for him. "He informed me that he did. There aren't doubts."

"Well," Mr. Holmes said as he placed a hand on his wife's waist. "I'm glad to hear Sherlock that you finally decided to tell her how you felt."

I glanced at Sherlock sideways. "He almost let me go in the divorce court." He rolled his eyes. "You suggested it, so don't deny it!"

"Hey, you didn't press the issue." He pointed out.

"As I stated before-

Sherlock placed his hand over my mouth and looked up at his parents. "Are you three staying around here much longer? Tammy and I need to talk. We have so many things to do and I have so many things that I want to do to her."

I choked and look at Sherlock with wide, shocked eyes. "Sherlock!"

He turned his mother. "Do you want those grandchildren or not?"

My face flushed as she pointed towards the front door. "Out now! Both of you!" Mycroft protested, but followed begrudgingly. Mr. Holmes whispered something into Mrs. Holmes's ear causing her to laugh heartily in delight.

I shook my head as they shut the door firmly. "I am never, going to live-

Sherlock silenced me by kissing me on the lips. I moaned as he pulled me against him. I groaned as his hands found their way under my robe. I pulled away, only to be pinned on my back by him. He kissed me once on my lips. "That…was yesterday. This…is today…and now. I am yours and you…are mine. Remember that."

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><p><strong>Lady Gisbourne 15: Yes, that last chapter was difficult, but I think I did a good job like that. I know, I debated about making Sherlock confess his feelings, but then, he is set in a different time period. If one were to compare how people were then to now, there is a stark difference. So I took a gamble on his emotions. I'm sorry to announce that there will be one more chapter after this. I will be doing either a Star Trek or Rambo fic. Rambo's kinda fighting it out in my head and the Start Trek is partly done. I'm bad on info, but I'm studying up on it!<strong>


	23. 23: If you asked me to

Chapter twenty-three: If you asked me to

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><p>I groaned and squeezed more water out of my hair. "I can't believe it."<p>

"It was an accident." Sherlock assured me as he opened the front door.

"You threw me into the lake!" I snapped, even though I wasn't truly angry with him. "And don't lie to me and say that! I know you did it on purpose!"

"Well, you were going to get paint on you. I spared you the trouble of ruining your dress."

I drew his coat tighter around me. "Sherlock, as you insisted that I don't wear corsets anymore thanks to your requests, when the water hit my white dress I came up nude!"

He grinned and pulled his coat from my shoulders, dropping it to the floor before pressing me against the door. "I noticed."

I tossed my head and murmured. "Idiot."

He simply leaned forward and kissed me. Sherlock Holmes and I were unashamed in showing the world that we had affection for each other. We'd been married for almost six months now, if I included the days prior to us consummating our marriage. It had been a wonderful teaser of a long life ahead with Sherlock Holmes. Sherlock and I worked hard, grooming 221B Baker Street into a house suitable for a private detective, yet fit for a family at some point in the late future.

We were a strange couple. Sherlock let me do pretty much whatever I wanted now. It was unusual how I thought that he'd be the kind to keep me on a 'leash' like some husbands. However, Sherlock let me help him with cases; I could wear whatever loud colors I wanted. I realized that the louder the color on the dress, the more Sherlock appreciated me. We both weren't bound by society's rules and conventions about silly things. If Sherlock wanted to kiss me in public, he did it. I'll never forget finding Sherlock his deep blue coat, which he loved, he wore it everywhere now. My body still ached as I recalled him thanking me for that coat in a blushingly intimate way.

"Oh Sherlock," Mycroft said drolly forcing us to separate slowly. "you two are late…and wet."

I groaned. "You have horrible timing."

"Actually, its perfect timing. We have company, and you two are a mess. Tammy is," he cleared his throat and shifted his gaze away from me. "well, rather wetly exposed since you requested that she not wear a corset anymore." I wrapped my arms around my chest, while scowling at Mycroft. "Go upstairs, get dressed and try to get down here in a timely fashion."

Sherlock picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder. "We were heading that way anyway." He moved towards the stairs and I shook my head in dismay as Sherlock added mischievously. "However, we might be late for dinner, feel free to start without us."

Somehow, Sherlock and I were able to make it downstairs an hour later looking somewhat decent. My hair, I had cut it a little shorter, so it always hung loosely down my back. Besides, Sherlock was always messing my hair up when it was pinned up, this way, no one could tell what he was up to with me.

We entered the dining room and all eyes went to us. "Sherlock! Tammy!" Mrs. Holmes said with a smile as Sherlock nudged me towards our designated seats. "There you two are! I thought you two got home an hour ago."

"We had to have a bath." I explained. "Sherlock got paint on himself and I got…knocked into a lake."

"And by knocked," Mycroft stated. "you mean Sherlock pushed you into the lake."

"I prefer my wife's hair color brown, as opposed to green. Simple choice really." I sat down and Sherlock sat down beside me as the butler began serving the meat, potatoes and vegetables. I was hungry and the scalloped potatoes looked delicious. "Are you sure you want to eat those?" Sherlock murmured in my ear as I place a scoop onto my plate. "They're full of starch."

I stopped in place and turned slowly to look at him. "Are you implying that I'm gaining weight?"

Mycroft let out a guffaw. "This is going to be good. I wish I had popped corn for this moment little brother."

Mrs. Holmes heard that and asked. "What moment would require popcorn Mikey?"

"Sherlock just implied that Tammy shouldn't eat her potatoes because they're full of starch." Now everyone at the table was looking at us. "I'm awaiting his answer."

Sherlock frowned. "Well, Tammy has been putting on a few pounds," everyone groaned as my eyes bulged. "so I tactfully asked if she wanted to eat her potatoes."

John shook his head as I snapped. "What's wrong with me putting on a few pounds?"

"I just assumed you were a woman who was conscious of her figure," tears sprang into my eyes. "and I was only commenting so." He frowned. "Why are you crying?"

"You really don't know?" I blubbered out as my tears began flowing faster. "You honestly don't know?"

"Mother said I should never make remarks about a woman's figure, but as you and I are always honest with each other, I'd decided to state my question honestly." He blinked and asked. "Not good?"

"Well unfortunately for you," I sniffled as I tried wiping my cheeks. "I'm going to gain a lot more weight."

He frowned. "Why? That's not like you"

"Because…I'm going to be having your baby," Sherlock blinked once. "Mr. Sherlock Holmes!" I shook my hands uselessly. "You honestly didn't know?" Sherlock blinks rapidly several times but other than that, he doesn't move or react. In fact, Sherlock is perfectly motionless. "Sherlock?" but Sherlock doesn't react. He's like frozen in time, staring blindly out into space. The silence drags on for long seconds. "This is actually getting a bit scary now." Sherlock didn't respond so I grabbed my glass of water and threw it in his face. Sherlock spluttered to life as I jumped out of my seat. "Oh, for God's sake! If you can't even-

Sherlock jumped up and said. "Are you sure?"

"Just look at her stomach, little brother," Mycroft said blandly. "you'll see that she's almost four months pregnant. Got a little enthusiastic, didn't you, in this recent attachment of yours?"

John 'accidentally' knocked his water into Mycroft's food. "Oh, I'm so sorry."

Mycroft nodded curtly. "Indeed."

"Shut up Mycroft." Mr. Holmes ordered. "This is a private moment."

"That," Mycroft muttered. "is on display for everyone."

Sherlock grabbed his full wine glass and chucked it across the table at Mycroft without even tearing his gaze away from me. He placed his hands on my shoulders and stepped towards me as I shifted slightly. Sherlock's gaze was deep and penetrating as he began to study my body, looking for the small changes that he'd deduced as weight gain. There is only silence in the room as Sherlock just studies me silently. Sherlock's eyes narrow as he runs a hand down my abdomen, checking my body for any changes that he's missed. I smile as his hands pause on my stomach. His dexterous fingers have finally located the small lump that proves that my stomach is beginning to expand.

I whisper quietly. "Sherlock…we are in the dining room and you are….touching me rather…intimately."

"That's true." He mumbles as he continues his investigation. "But, you're my wife, so, it's completely respectable."

I shake my head. "Fine, continue by all means." After a few moments, he pulled away and looked at me. I cleared my throat. "Well?"

He didn't say anything. He simply took my hand and tugged me out of the room. Everyone let out murmurs of concern as Sherlock and I walked out of the living room, upstairs to our room and out onto the balcony. Sherlock released my hand and looked upwards at the stars for a moment before turning towards me. I wasn't sure what to expect with him, after all, most men acted unusually when they realized that they were going to be fathers. Sherlock, however, I wasn't certain how he'd react.

He pulled me towards him, pressing my head against his chest, while his hand stroked my hair. He didn't have to say anything; I could feel what he wanted to say in every little gesture. However, what he did say surprised me. "I wish your father were here." I frowned and looked up at him. "Because…if he were," Sherlock leaned forward to kiss me. "I'd thank him for persuading the most wonderful woman in the world to marry me." I smiled as he kissed me; I clung to him as he pressed me against him. "You're the wonder of wonders."

"If you say so."

"I know so."

After several moments of his intoxicating kisses and soft words, I pull away from him. "We should go back downstairs."

"Can't we just stay here?" he says. "It's a nice night and I'd really prefer to spend it up here with you instead of those idiots downstairs?"

I roll my eyes as he pulls me down onto the chaise lounge. I snuggle against him. "As you wish." I exhale and close my eyes as he continues stroking my hair.

"If we'd met of our own accord," Sherlock questioned. "do you think we would have gotten married?"

I smile as I reach up and run my hand through his hair. "In a heartbeat, if you asked me to."

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><p><strong>And...it's over. I'm sorry about the delay, but as always with a story you're having fun with, you never want it to end. But, the good news is, I've got another SherlockTammy story in mind. This time, it's set in the Tudor time period and yes, I was somewhat inspired by Benedict's performance in the other Boleyn girl, but I don't have much of the plot worked out yet. But, I've included a teaser below.**

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><p>In my anger, I grabbed a handful of snow and wadded it into a snowball. I threw it at a tree, but missed. As I picked up another handful of snow, I heard a man shout. "OW!" All my anger dissipated as I realized that I had hit some unsuspecting person, probably upside the head with a snowball!<p>

A man came stomping out of the woods; his expression was one of annoyance. I couldn't tell much of his physic, as he was bundled up. However, his face was extremely angular and his cheekbones were prominently sharp.

"Who are you?" He demanded. "And why are you throwing snowballs at me?"

Now, I was indignant. He thought I did it on purpose! I didn't even see him! "My name is Lady Tamera Trenowyth. Who are you?"

His brow arched in curiosity, as if he were surprised that I didn't know him. He crossed his arms across his chest. "Sherlock Holmes."

I arch a brow. "And? Is that supposed to mean something?" Now, he looked amused. "Am I supposed to be impressed?"

"You should be."

"Well, I'm not!"

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><p><strong>That's as long as a teaser as you're going to get. Sorry. Also, we are getting a petition together to get Fanfiction to grant writer's the power to remove reviews. If you're interested in helping out, please, give me permission to add your name to the petition. If you want to do more, PM your friends and let them know. The more people involved, the better.<strong>


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